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PROVERB STORIES 


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“ ‘ Give him a cheer, auntie : he sees us and remembers ! ’ cried Tom.” 
Frontispiece. 6’^’^ p. 295. 


Proverb Stories 


By 

LOUISA M. ALCOTT 

1 1 

Author or “ Littlr Womhn,” “An Old-Fashioned Girl,” 
PiTCHBRS,” “Work, a Story of Kxpkribnce,’’ 
“Moods, a Novel,” Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ETHEL PENNEWILL BROWN 



BOSTON 

Little, Brown, and Company 

1908 


“ Silver 



IwuGooies Kec(i>«o« 


SEP 11 , )au8 






Copyright, 1882, 

By Louisa M. Alcott. 

Copyright, i8g6. 

By J. S. P. Alcott. 

Copyright, jgo8. 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 


All rights reserved 


\ 


^^rinter* 


8. J. Parkhill a Co., Boston, U. 8. A. 


PREFACE 


Being forbidden to write anything at present 
I have collected various waifs and strays to ap- 
pease the young people who clamor for more, 
forgetting that mortal brains need rest. 

As many girls have asked to see what sort of 
tales Jo March wrote at the beginning of her 
career, I have added ‘‘ The Baron’s Gloves,” as a 
sample of the romantic rubbish which paid so well 
once upon a time. If it shows them what not to 
iWrite it will not have been rescued from oblivion 
in vain. 


L. M. Alcott. 






CONTENTS 


PAGB 

Kitty’s Class Day i 

Aunt Kipp 25 

Psyche’s Art 59 

A Country Christmas 95 

On Picket Duty 141 

The Baron’s Gloves 179 

My Red Cap 291 

What the Bells Saw and Said . . . .317 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘“Give him a cheer, auntie: he sees us and 

REMEMBERS 1 ’ CRIED ToM ”, . . . Frontispiece 

“All about them other pairs were wandering 

UNDER THE PATRIARCHAL ELMS ”... Page 21 . 

“When Toady emerged, somewhat flushed and 
TUMBLED, Mrs. Snow, Polly, and Van were 
LOOKING ON ” “ 56 

“ It was a new disease called the Art fever ” “ 59 , - 

“ The village fiddler soon struck up the good 

OLD tunes ” “ 130 

“‘A FLOCK OF frightened WOMEN THEE’D AND 

thou’d one another over me’” . . . “ 172 ^ 

“She woke to find the air full of music” . “ 187 

“The spirits of the bells floated away” 


334 



\ 


PROVERB STORIES 


KITTY’S CLASS DAY 


A stitch in time saves nine.” 



PRIS, Pris, I’m really going! Here’s 


the invitation — rough paper — Chapel 


— spreads — Lyceum Hall — every- 
thing splendid; and Jack to take care of me!” 

As Kitty burst into the room and performed 
a rapturous pas seul, waving the cards over her 
head, sister Priscilla looked up from her work 
with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face. 

‘‘ Who invites you, dear ? ” 

“ Why, Jack, of course, — dear old cousin 
Jack. Nobody else ever thinks of me, or cares 
whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. 
Is n’t he kind ? May n’t I go ? and, O Pris, what 
shall I wear ? ” 

Kitty paused suddenly, as if the last all-impor- 
tant question had a solemnizing effect upon both 
mind and body. 

‘‘ Why, your white muslin, silk sacque, and 
new hat, of course,” began Pris with an air of 
surprise. But Kitty broke in impetuously, — 

I ’ll never wear that old muslin again ; it ’s 


2 


Proverb Stories 


full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of 
fashion. So is my sacque; and as for my hat, 
though it does well enough here, it would be 
absurd for Class Day.” 

“ You don’t expect an entirely new suit for 
this occasion, — do you? ” asked Pris, anxiously. 

‘‘ Yes, I do, and I ’ll tell you how I mean to 
get it. I ’ve planned everything ; for, though I 
hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by 
thinking how I could manage if I did get in- 
vited.” 

“ Let us hear.” And Pris took up her work 
with an air of resignation. 

First, my dress,” began Kitty, perching her- 
self on the arm of the sofa, and entering into the 
subject with enthusiasm. ‘‘ I ’ve got the ten dol- 
lars grandpa sent me, and with eight of it I ’m 
going to buy Lizzie King’s organdie muslin. 
She got it in Paris; but her aunt providentially 
— no, unfortunately — died; so she can’t wear 
it, and wants to get rid of it. She is bigger than 
I am, you know; so there is enough for a little 
mantle or sacque, for it isn’t made up. The 
skirt is cut off and gored, with a splendid 
train — ” 

“ My dear, you don’t mean you are going 
to wear one of those absurd, new-fashioned 
dresses? ” exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes. 

“I do! Nothing would induce me to go to 
Qass Day without a train. It ’s been the desire 
of my heart to have one, and now I will, if I 


Kitty’s Class Day 3 

never have another gown to my back ! returned 
Kitty, with immense decision. 

Pris shook her head, and said, Go on ! ” as 
if prepared for any extravagance after that. 

“ We can make it ourselves,’’ continued Kitty, 
“ and trim it with the same. It ’s white with 
blue stripes and daisies in the stripes; the love- 
liest thing you ever saw, and can’t be got here. 
So simple, yet distingue, I know you ’ll like it. 
Next, my bonnet,” — here the solemnity of 
Kitty’s face and manner was charming to behold. 
“ I shall make it out of one of my new illusion 
undersleeves. I ’ve never worn them ; and the 
puffed part will be a plenty for a little fly-away 
bonnet of the latest style. I ’ve got blue ribbons 
to tie it with, and have only to look up some 
daisies for the inside. With my extra two dol- 
lars I shall buy my gloves, and pay my fares, — 
and there I am, all complete.” 

She looked so happy, so pretty, and full of 
girlish satisfaction, that sister Pris could n’t bear 
to disturb the little plan, much as she disapproved 
of it. They were poor, and every penny had to 
be counted. There were plenty of neighbors to 
gossip and criticise, and plenty of friends to 
make disagreeable remarks on any unusual ex- 
travagance. Pris saw things with the prudent 
eyes of thirty, but Kitty with the romantic eyes 
of seventeen; and the elder sister, in the kind- 
ness of her heart, had no wish to sadden life to 
those bright young eyes, or deny the child a 


Proverb Stories 


4 

harmless pleasure. She sewed thoughtfully for 
a minute, then looked up, saying, with the smile 
that always assured Kitty the day was won, — 

‘‘ Get your things together, and we will see 
what can be done. But remember, dear, that it is 
both bad taste and bad economy for poor people 
to try to ape the rich.'' 

“You're a perfect angel, Pris; so don't 
moralize. I 'll run and get the dress, and we 'll 
begin at once, for there is much to do, and only 
two days to do it in." And Kitty skipped away, 
singing “ Lauriger Horatius," at the top of her 
voice. 

Priscilla soon found that the girl's head was 
completely turned by the advice and example of 
certain fashionable young neighbors. It was in 
vain for Pris to remonstrate and warn. 

“Just this once let me do as others do, and 
thoroughly enjoy myself," pleaded Kitty; and 
Pris yielded, saying to herself, “ She shall have 
her wish, and if she learns a lesson, neither time 
nor money will be lost." 

So they snipped and sewed, and planned and 
pieced, going through all the alternations of de- 
spair and triumph, worry and satisfaction, which 
women undergo when a new suit is under way. 
Company kept coming, for news of Kitty's ex- 
pedition had flown abroad, and her young friends 
must just run in to hear about it, and ask what 
she was going to wear; while Kitty was so glad 
and proud to tell, and show, and enjoy her little 


Kitty’s Class Day 5 

triumph that many half hours were wasted, and 
the second day found much still to do. 

The lovely muslin did n't hold out, and Kitty 
sacrificed the waist to the train, for a train she 
must have or the whole thing would be an utter 
failure. A little sacque was eked out, however, 
and when the frills were on, it was ‘‘ ravishing," 
as Kitty said, with a sigh of mingled delight and 
fatigue. The gored skirt was a fearful job, as 
any one who has ever plunged into the mysteries 
will testify; and before the facing, even experi- 
enced Pris quailed. 

The bonnet also was a trial, for when the lace 
was on, it was discovered that the ribbons did n't 
match the dress. Here was a catastrophe ! Kitty 
frantically rummaged the house, the shops, the 
stores of her friends, and rummaged in vain. 
There was no time to send to the city, and despair 
was about to fall on Kitty, when Pris rescued 
her by quietly making one of the small sacrifices 
which were easy to her because her life was 
spent for others. Some one suggested a strip of 
blue illusion, — and that could be got ; but, alas ! 
Kitty had no money, for the gloves were already 
bought. Pris heard the lamentations, and giving 
up fresh ribbons for herself, pulled her sister out 
of a slough of despond with two yards of 
‘‘ heavenly tulle." 

“ Now the daisies; and oh, dear me, not one 
can I find in this poverty-stricken town," sighed 
Kitty, prinking at the glass, and fervently hop- 


6 Proverb Stories 

ing that nothing would happen to her complexion 
over night. 

I see plenty just like those on your dress/’ 
answered Pris, needing toward the meadow full 
of young white weed. 

“ Pris, you ’re a treasure ! I ’ll wear real ones ; 
they keep well, I know, and are so common I can 
refresh my bonnet anywhere. It ’s a splendid 
idea.” 

Away rushed Kitty to return with an apron 
full of American daisies. A pretty cluster was 
soon fastened just over the left-hand frizzle of 
bright hair, and the little bonnet was complete. 

“ Now, Pris, tell me how I look,” cried Kitty, 
as she swept into the room late that afternoon in 
full gala costume. 

It would have been impossible for the prim- 
mest, the sourest, or the most sensible creature 
in the world to say that it was n’t a pretty sight. 
The long train, the big chignon, the apology for 
a bonnet, were all ridiculous, — no one could 
deny that, — but youth, beauty, and a happy 
heart made even those absurdities charming. 
The erect young figure gave an air to the crisp 
folds of the delicate dress; the bright eyes and 
fresh cheeks under the lace rosette made one for- 
get its size; and the rippling brown hair won 
admiration in spite of the ugly bunch which dis- 
figured the girl’s head. The little jacket set 
“ divinely,” the new gloves were as immaculate 
as white kids could be, and to crown all, Lizzie 


Kitty’s Class Day 7 

King, in a burst of generosity, lent Kitty the blue 
and white Paris sunshade which she could n’t use 
herself. 

‘‘Now I could die content; I’m perfect in all 
respects, and I know Jack won’t be ashamed of 
me. I really owe it to him to look my best, you 
know, and that ’s why I ’m so particular,” said 
Kitty, in an apologetic tone, as she began to lay 
away her finery. 

“ I hope you will enjoy every minute of the 
time, deary. Don’t forget to finish running up 
the facing; I ’ve basted it carefully, and would 
do it if my head did n’t ache so, I really can’t 
hold it up any longer,” answered Pris, who had 
worked like a disinterested bee, while Kitty had 
flown about like a distracted butterfly. 

“ Go and lie down, you dear, kind soul, and 
don’t think of my nonsense again,” said Kitty, 
feeling remorseful, till Pris was comfortably 
asleep, when she went to her room and revelled 
in her finery till bedtime. So absorbed was she 
in learning to manage her train gracefully, that 
she forgot the facing till very late. Then, being 
worn out with work and worry, she did, what 
girls are too apt to do, stuck a pin here and there, 
and, trusting to Priscilla’s careful bastings, left 
it as it was, retiring to dream of a certain Horace 
Fletcher, whose aristocratic elegance had made a 
deep impression upon her during the few eve- 
nings she had seen him. 

Nothing could have been lovelier than the 


8 Proverb Stories 

morning, and few hearts happier than Kitty’s, 
as she arrayed herself with the utmost care, and 
waited in solemn state for the carriage; for 
muslin trains and dewy roads were incompatible, 
and one luxury brought another. 

My goodness, where did she get that stylish 
suit ? ” whispered Miss Smith to Miss Jones, as 
Kitty floated into the station with all sail set, find- 
ing it impossible to resist the temptation to aston- 
ish certain young ladies who had snubbed her in 
times past, which snubs had rankled, and were 
now avenged. 

‘‘ I looked everywhere for a muslin for to-day 
and could n’t find any I liked, so I was forced to 
wear my mauve silk,” observed Miss Smith, 
complacently settling the silvery folds of her 
dress. 

“ It ’s very pretty, but one ruins a silk at Class 
Day, you know. I thought this organdie would 
be more comfortable and appropriate this warm 
day. A friend brought it from Paris, and it ’s 
like one the Princess of Wales wore at the great 
flower-show this year,” returned Kitty, with the 
air of a young lady who had all her dresses 
from Paris, and was intimately acquainted with 
the royal family. 

Those girls ” were entirely extinguished by 
this stroke, and had n’t a word to say for them- 
selves, while Kitty casually mentioned Horace 
Fletcher, Lyceum Hall, and Cousin Jack, for they 


Kitty’s Class Day 9 

had only a little Freshman brother to boast of, 
and were not going to Lyceum Hall. 

As she stepped out of the cars at Cambridge, 
Jack opened his honest blue eyes and indulged in 
a low whistle of astonishment; for if there was 
anything he especially hated, it was the trains, 
chignons and tiny bonnets then in fashion. He 
was very fond of Kitty, and prided himself on 
being able to show his friends a girl who was 
charming, and yet not over-dressed. 

“ She has made a regular guy of herself ; I 
won't tell her so, and the dear little soul shall have 
a jolly time in spite of her fuss and feathers. 
But I do wish she had let her hair alone and worn 
that pretty hat of hers." 

As this thought passed through Jack’s mind he 
smiled and bowed and made his way among the 
crowd, whispering as he drew his cousin’s arm 
through his own, — 

Why, Kitty, you’re got up regardless of ex- 
pense, are n’t you ? I ’m so glad you came, we ’ll 
have a rousing good time, and you shall see all 
the fun.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, thank you. Jack! Do I look nice, really? 
I tried to be a credit to you and Pris, and I did 
have such a job of it. I ’ll make you laugh over 
it some time. A carriage for me? Bless us, how 
fine we are ! ’’ and Kitty stepped in, feeling that 
only one thing more was needed to make her cup 
overflow. That one thing was speedily vouch- 


lO 


Proverb Stories 


safed, for before her skirts were smoothly settled, 
Jack called out, in his hearty way, — 

“ How are you, Fletcher? If you are bound 
for Chapel I ’ll take you up.” 

Thanks; good-morning. Miss Heath.” 

It was all done in an instant, and the next thing 
Kitty knew she was rolling away with the elegant 
Horace sitting opposite. How little it takes to 
make a young girl happy! A pretty dress, sun- 
shine, and somebody opposite, and they are blest. 
Kitty’s face glowed and dimpled with pleasure 
as she glanced about her, especially when she, 
sitting in state with two gentlemen all to herself, 
passed those girls ” walking in the dust with a 
beardless boy ; she felt that she could forgive past 
slights, and did so with a magnanimous smile and 
bow. 

Both Jack and Fletcher had graduated the year 
before, but still took an interest in their old 
haunts, and patronized the fellows who were not 
yet through the mill, at least the Seniors and 
Juniors; of Sophs and Freshs they were sub- 
limely unconscious. Greeted by frequent slaps on 
the shoulder, and hearty “ How are you, old 
fellows,” they piloted Kitty to a seat in the chapel. 
An excellent place, but the girl’s satisfaction was 
marred by Fletcher’s desertion, and she could not 
see anything attractive about the dashing young 
lady in the pink bonnet to whom he devoted him- 
self, ‘‘ because she was a stranger,” Kitty said. 

Everybody knows what goes on in the Chapel, 


Kitty’s . class Day ii 

after the fight and scramble are over. The rustle 
and buzz, the music, the oratory and the poem, 
during which the men cheer and the girls simper ; 
the professors yawn, and the poef s friends pro- 
nounce him a second Longfellow. Then the clos- 
ing flourishes, the grand crush, and general scat- 
tering. 

Then the fun really begins, as far as the young 
folks are concerned. They don’t mind swarming 
up and down stairs in a solid phalanx; they can 
enjoy half a dozen courses of salad, ice and 
strawberries, with stout gentlemen crushing their 
feet, anxious mammas sticking sharp elbows into 
their sides, and absent-minded tutors walking 
over them. They can flirt vigorously in a torrid 
atmosphere of dinner, dust, and din; can smile 
with hot coffee running down their backs, small 
avalanches of ice-cream descending upon their 
best bonnets, and sandwiches, butter-side down, 
reposing on their delicate silks. They know that 
it is a costly rapture, but they carefully refrain 
from thinking of the morrow, and energetically 
illustrate the Yankee maxim which bids us enjoy 
ourselves in our early bloom. 

Kitty did have “ a rousing good time ; ” for 
Jack was devoted, taking her everywhere, show- 
ing her everything, feeding and fanning her, and 
festooning her train with untiring patience. How 
many forcible expressions he mentally indulged 
in as he walked on that unlucky train we will not 
record; he smiled and skipped and talked of 


1 2 Proverb Stories 

treading on flowers in a way that would Have 
charmed Kitty, if some one else had not been 
hovering about “ The Daisy, as Fletcher called 
her. 

After he returned, she neglected Jack, who 
took it coolly, and was never in the way unless 
she wanted him. For the first time in her life, 
Kitty deliberately flirted. The little coquetries, 
which are as natural to a gay young girl as her 
laughter, were all in full play, and had she gone 
no further no harm would have been done. But, 
excited by the example of those about her, Kitty 
tried to enact the fashionable young lady, and, 
like most novices, she overdid the part. Quite 
forgetting her cousin, she tossed her head, twirled 
her fan, gave affected little shrieks at college 
jokes, and talked college slang in a way that con- 
vulsed Fletcher, who enjoyed the fun immensely. 

Jack saw it all, shook his head and said noth- 
ing ; but his face grew rather sober as he watched 
Kitty, flushed, dishevelled, and breathless, whirl- 
ing round Lyceum Hall, on the arm of Fletcher, 
who danced divinely, as all the girls agreed. Jack 
had proposed going, but Kitty had frowned, so he 
fell back, leaving her to listen and laugh, blush 
and shrink a little at her partner’s flowery com- 
pliments and admiring glances. 

“If she stands that long she ’s not the girl I 
took her for,” thought Jack, beginning to lose 
patience. “ She does n’t look like my little Kitty, 
and somehow I don’t feel half so fond and proud 


Kitty’s Class Day 13 

of her as usual. I know one thing, my daugh- 
ters shall never be seen knocking about in that 
style. 

As if the thought suggested the act, Jack sud- 
denly assumed an air of paternal authority, and, 
arresting his cousin as she was about to begin 
again, he said, in a tone she had never heard 
before, — 

“ I promised Pris to take care of you, so I shall 
carry you off to rest, and put yourself to rights 
after this game of romps. I advise you to do the 
same, Fletcher, or give your friend in the pink 
bonnet a turn.’' 

Kitty took Jack’s arm pettishly, but glanced 
over her shoulder with such an inviting smile that 
Fletcher followed, feeling very much like a top, 
in danger of tumbling down the instant he 
stopped spinning. As she came out Kitty’s face 
cleared, and, assuming her sprightliest air, she 
spread her plumage and prepared to descend with 
effect, for a party of uninvited peris stood at the 
gate of this Paradise casting longing glances at 
the forbidden splendors within. Slowly, that all 
might see her, Kitty sailed down, with Horace, 
the debonair, in her wake, and was just think- 
ing to herself, ‘‘ Those girls won’t get over this 
very soon, I fancy,” when all in one moment she 
heard Fletcher exclaim, wrath fully, ‘‘ Hang the 
flounces ! ” she saw a very glossy black hat come 
skipping down the steps, felt a violent twitch 
backward, and, to save herself from a fall, sat 


14 Proverb Stories 

down on the lower step with most undignified 
haste. 

It was impossible for the bystanders to help 
laughing, for there was Fletcher hopping wildly 
about, with one foot nicely caught in a muslin 
loop, and there sat Kitty longing to run away and 
hide herself, yet perfectly helpless, while every 
one tittered. Miss Jones and Miss Smith laughed 
shrilly, and the despised little Freshman com- 
pleted her mortification, by a feeble joke about 
Kitty Heath’s new man-trap. It was only an in- 
stant, but it seemed an hour before Fletcher freed 
her, and snatching up the dusty beaver, left her 
with a flushed countenance and an abrupt bow. 

If it had n’t been for Jack, Kitty would have 
burst into tears then and there, so terrible was 
the sense of humiliation which oppressed her. 
For his sake she controlled herself, and, bundling 
up her tom train, set her teeth, stared straight 
before her, and let him lead her in dead silence 
to a friend’s room near by. There he locked the 
door, and began to comfort her by making light 
of the little mishap. But Kitty cried so tragic- 
ally, that he was at his wit’s end, till the ludi- 
crous side of the affair struck her, and she began 
to laugh hysterically. With a vague idea that 
vigorous treatment was best for that feminine 
ailment. Jack was about to empty the contents of 
an ice-pitcher over her, when she arrested him, 
by exclaiming, incoherently, — 

Oh, don’t ! — it was so funny ! — how can 


Kitty’s Class Day 15 

you laugh, you cruel boy ? — I’m disgraced, for- 
ever — take me home to Pris, oh, take me home 
to Pris ! ” 

‘‘ I will, my dear, I will ; but first let me right 
you up a bit; you look as if you had been hazed, 
upon my life you do; ” and Jack laughed in spite 
of himself at the wretched little object before 
him, for dust, dancing, and the downfall pro- 
duced a ruinous spectacle. 

That broke Kitty’s heart; and, spreading her 
hands before her face, she was about to cry again, 
when the sad sight which met her eyes dispelled 
the gathering tears. The new gloves were both 
split up the middle and very dirty with clutching 
at the steps as she went down. 

“ Never mind, you can wash them,” said Jack, 
soothingly. 

I paid a dollar and a half for them, and they 
can’t be washed,” groaned Kitty. 

Oh, hang the gloves ! I meant your hands,” 
cried Jack, trying to keep sober. 

“No matter for my hands, I mourn my gloves. 
But I won’t cry any more, for my head aches now 
so I can hardly see.” And Kitty threw off her 
bonnet, as if even that airy trifle hurt her. 

Seeing how pale she looked. Jack tenderly 
suggested a rest on the old sofa, and a wet hand- 
kerchief on her hot forehead, while he got the 
good landlady to send her up a cup of tea. As 
Kitty rose to comply she glanced at her dress, 
and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, tragically, — 


Proverb Stories 


1 6 


“ The facing, the fatal facing ! That made all 
the mischief, for if I ’d sewed it last night it 
would n’t have ripped to-day ; if it had n’t ripped 
Fletcher would n’t have got his foot in it, I 
shouldn’t have made an object of myself, he 
would n’t have gone off in a rage, and — who 
knows what might have happened ? ” 

‘‘ Bless the what ’s-its-name if it has settled 
him,” cried Jack. ‘‘ He is a contemptible fellow 
not to stay and help you out of the scrape he got 
you into. Follow his lead and don’t trouble your- 
self about him.” 

Well, he was rather absurd to-day, I allow; 
but he has got handsome eyes and hands, and he 
does dance like an angel,” sighed Kitty, as she 
pinned up the treacherous loop which had brought 
destruction to her little castle in the air. 

Handsome eyes, white hands, and angelic 
feet don’t make a man. Wait till you can do 
better. Kit.” 

With an odd, grave look, that rather startled 
Kitty, Jack vanished, to return presently with a 
comfortable cup of tea and a motherly old lady 
to help repair damages and soothe her by the 
foolish little purrings and pattings so grateful to 
female nerves after a flurry. 

“ I ’ll come back and take you out to see the 
dance round the tree when you ’ve had a bit of 
a rest,” said Jack, vibrating between door and 
sofa as if it was n’t easy to get away. 

‘‘ Oh, I could n’t,” cried Kitty, with a shudder 


Kitty’s Class Day 17 

at the bare idea of meeting any one. I can^t 
be seen again to-night; let me stay here till my 
train goes.’’ 

‘‘ I thought it had gone, already,” said Jack, 
with an irrepressible twinkle of the eye that 
glanced at the draggled dress sweeping the floor. 

How can you joke about it! ” and the girl’s 
reproachful eyes filled with tears of shame. “ I 
know I ’ve been very silly. Jack, but I ’ve had my 
punishment, and I don’t need any more. To feel 
that you despise me is worse than all the rest.” 

She ended with a little sob, and turned her face 
away to hide the trembling of her lips. At that. 
Jack flushed up, his eyes shone, and he stooped 
suddenly as if to make some impetuous reply. 
But, remembering the old lady (who, by the by, 
was discreetly looking out of the window), he 
put his hands in his pockets and strolled out of 
the room. 

‘‘ I ’ve lost them both by this day’s folly,” 
thought Kitty, as Mrs. Brown departed with the 
teacup. I don’t care for Fletcher, for I dare 
say he did n’t mean half he said, and I was only 
flattered because he is rich and handsome and the 
girls glorify him. But I shall miss Jack, for I ’ve 
known and loved him all my life. How good 
he ’s been to me to-day ! so patient, careful, and 
kind, though he must have been ashamed of me. 
I know he did n’t like my dress ; but he never 
said a word and stood by me through everything. 
Oh, I wish I ’d minded Pris ! then he would have 


1 8 Proverb Stories 

respected me, at least; I wonder if he ever will, 
again ? ’’ 

Following a sudden impulse, Kitty sprang up, 
locked the door, and then proceeded to destroy 
all her little vanities as far as possible. She 
smoothed out her crimps with a wet and ruthless 
hand; fastened up her pretty hair in the simple 
way Jack liked; gave her once cherished bonnet 
a spiteful shake, as she put it on, and utterly ex- 
tinguished it with a big blue veil. She looped up 
her dress, leaving no vestige of the now hateful 
train, and did herself up uncompromisingly in the 
Quakerish gray shawl Pris had insisted on her 
taking for the evening. Then she surveyed her- 
self with pensive satisfaction, saying, in the tone 
of one bent on resolutely mortifying the flesh, — 

“ Neat but not gaudy; I ’m a fright, but I de- 
serve it, and it ’s better than being a peacock.” 

Kitty had time to feel a little friendless and 
forlorn, sitting there alone as twilight fell, and 
amused herself by wondering if Fletcher would 
come to inquire about her, or show any further 
interest in her; yet when the sound of a manly 
tramp approached, she trembled lest it should be 
the victim of the fatal facing. The door opened, 
and with a sigh of relief she saw Jack come in, 
bearing a pair of new gloves in one hand and a 
great bouquet of June roses in the other. 

“ How good of you to bring me these ! They 
are more refreshing than oceans of tea. You 
know what I like, Jack; thank you very mucli,” 


Kitty’s Class Day 19 

cried Kitty, sniffing at her roses with grateful 
rapture. 

“ And you know what I like/’ returned Jack, 
with an approving glance at the altered figure 
before him. 

“ I ’ll never do so any more,” murmured Kitty, 
wondering why she felt bashful all of a sudden, 
when it was only cousin Jack. 

“ Now put on your gloves, dear, and come out 
and hear the music ; your train does n’t go for 
two hours yet, and you mustn’t mope here all 
that time,” said Jack, offering his second gift. 

‘‘ How did you know my size? ” asked Kitty, 
putting on the gloves in a hurry; for though 
Jack had called her ‘‘ dear ” for years, the little 
word had a new sound to-night. 

** I guessed, — no, I did n’t, I had the old ones 
with me; they are no good now, are they?” 
and too honest to lie. Jack tried to speak care- 
lessly, though he turned red in the dusk, well 
knowing that the dirty little gloves were folded 
away in his left breast-pocket at that identical 
moment. 

“ Oh, dear, no! these fit nicely. I ’m ready, if 
you don’t mind going with such a fright,” said 
Kitty, forgetting her dread of seeing people in 
her desire to get away from that room, because 
for the first time in her life she was n’t at ease 
with Jack. 

‘‘ I think I like the little gray moth better than 
the fine butterfly,” returned Jack, who, in spite of 


2 0 Proverb Stories 

his invitation, seemed to find ‘‘moping’' rather 
pleasant. 

“ You are a rainy-day friend, and he is n’t,” 
said Kitty, softly, as she drew him away. 

Jack’s only answer was to lay his hand on the 
little white glove resting so confidingly on his 
arm, and, keeping it there, they roamed away 
into the summer twilight. 

Something had happened to the evening and 
the place, for both seemed suddenly endowed 
with uncommon beauty and interest. The dingy 
old houses might have been fairy palaces, for 
anything they saw to the contrary; the dusty 
walks, the trampled grass, were regular Elysian 
fields to them, and the music was the music of 
the spheres, though they found themselves 
“ Right in the middle of the boom, jing, jing.” 
For both had made a little discovery, — no, not 
a little one, the greatest and sweetest man and 
woman can make. In the sharp twinge of jeal- 
ousy which the sight of Kitty’s flirtation with 
Fletcher gave him, and the delight he found in 
her after conduct. Jack discovered how much he 
loved her. In the shame, gratitude, and half 
sweet, half bitter emotion that filled her heart, 
Kitty felt that to her Jack would never be “ only 
cousin Jack ” any more. All the vanity, coquetry, 
selfishness, and ill-temper of the day seemed mag- 
nified to heinous sins, for now her only thought 
was, “ seeing these faults, he can't care for me. 
Oh, I wish I was a better girl ! ” 



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Kitty’s Class Day 2 1 

She did not say for his sake/' but in the new 
humility, the ardent wish to be all that a woman 
should be, little Kitty proved how true her love 
was, and might have said with Portia, — 

“ For myself alone, I would not be 
Ambitious in my wish ; but, for you, 

I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 

A thousand times more fair, 

Ten thousand times more rich.” 

All about them other pairs were wandering 
under the patriarchal elms, enjoying music, star- 
light, balmy winds, and all the luxuries of the 
season. If the band had played 

“ Oh, there *s nothing half so sweet in life 
As love’s young dream — ” 

it is my private opinion that it would have suited 
the audience to a T. Being principally composed 
of elderly gentlemen with large families, they had 
not that fine sense of the fitness of things so 
charming to see, and tooted and banged away 
with waltzes and marches, quite regardless of 
the flocks of Romeos and Juliets philandering all 
about them. 

Under cover of a popular medley, Kitty over- 
heard Fletcher quizzing her for the amusement 
of Miss Pinkbonnet, who was evidently making 
up for lost time. It was feeble wit, but it put the 
finishing stroke to Kitty's vanity, and she dropped 


22 


Proverb Stories 


a tear in her blue tissue retreat, and clung to 
Jack, feeling that she had never valued him half 
enough. She hoped he did n’t hear the gossip 
going on at the other side of the tree near which 
they stood ; but he did, for his hand involuntarily 
doubled itself up into a very dangerous-looking 
fist, and he darted such fiery glances at the 
speaker, that, if the thing had been possible, 
Fletcher’s ambrosial curls would have been 
scorched off his head. 

‘‘ Never mind, and don’t get angry. Jack. 
They are right about one thing, — the daisies in 
my bonnet were real, and I could n’t afford any 
others. I don’t care much, only Pris worked so 
hard to get me ready I hate to have my things 
made fun of.” 

‘‘ He is n’t worth a thrashing, so we ’ll let it 
pass this time,” said Jack, irefully, yet privately 
resolving to have it out with Fletcher by and by. 

“ Why, Kitty, I thought the real daisies the 
prettiest things about your dress. Don’t throw 
them away. I ’ll wear them just to show that 
noodle that I prefer nature to art;” and Jack 
gallantly stuck the faded posy in his button-hole, 
while Kitty treasured up the hint so kindly given 
for future use. 

If a clock with great want of tact had n’t in^ 
sisted on telling them that it was getting late, 
Kitty never would have got home, for both the 
young people felt inclined to loiter about arm in 
arm through the sweet summer night forever. 


Kitty’s Class Day 23 

Jack had meant to say something before she went, 
and was immensely surprised to find the chance 
lost for the present. He wanted to go home with 
her and free his mind; but a neighborly old 
gentleman having been engaged as escort, there 
would have been very little satisfaction in a trav- 
elling trio ; so he gave it up. He was very silent 
as they walked to the station with Dr. Dodd 
trudging behind them. Kitty thought he was 
tired, perhaps glad to be rid of her, and meekly 
accepted her fate. But as the train approached, 
she gave his hand an impulsive squeeze, and said 
very gratefully, — 

“ Jack, I can't thank you enough for your kind- 
ness to your silly little cousin; but I never shall 
forget it, and if I ever can return it in any way, 
I will with all my heart." 

Jack looked down at the young face almost 
pathetic now with weariness, humility, and pain, 
yet very sweet, with that new shyness in the lov- 
ing eyes, and, stooping suddenly, he kissed it, 
whispering in a tone that made the girl’s heart 
flutter, — 

“ I ’ll tell you how you may return it * with all 
your heart,’ by and by. Good-night, my Kitty." 

Have you had a good time, dear ? " asked 
Pris, as her sister appeared an hour later. 

“ Don’t I look as if I had? ’’ and, throwing off 
her wraps, Kitty revolved slowly before her that 
she might behold every portion of the wreck. 
“ My gown is all dust, crumple, and rags, my 


Proverb Stories 


24 

bonnet perfectly limp and flat, and my gloves are 
ruined ; I Ve broken Lizzie's parasol, made a 
spectacle of myself, and wasted money, time, and 
temper; yet my Class Day isn’t a failure, for 
Jack is the dearest boy in the world, and I ’m 
very, very happy ! ” 

Pris looked at her a minute, then opened her 
arms without a word, and Kitty forgot all her 
little troubles in one great joy. 

When Miss Smith and Miss Jones called a few 
days after to tell her that Mr. Fletcher was going 
abroad, the amiable creatures were entirely routed 
by finding Jack there in a most unmistakable situ- 
ation. He blandly wished Horace ‘‘ bon voyage,” 
and regretted that he wouldn’t be there to the 
wedding in October. Kitty devoted herself to 
blushing beautifully, and darning many rents in 
a short daisy muslin skirt, “ which I intend to 
wear a great deal, because Jack likes it, and so do 
I,” she said, with a demure look at her lover, who 
laughed as if that was the best joke of the season. 


AUNT KIPP 

** Children and fools speak the truth.” 

I 


w 


'HAT ’S that sigh for, Polly dear? ” 
'I'm tired, mother, tired of work- 
ing and waiting. If I 'm ever going 
to have any fun, I want it now while I can enjoy 
it." 


“ You should n't wait another hour if I could 
have my way; but you know how helpless I 
am ; " and poor Mrs. Snow sighed dolefully, as 
she glanced about the dingy room and pretty 
Mary turning her faded gown for the second 
time. 

‘‘ If Aunt Kipp would give us the money she 
is always talking about, instead of waiting till 
she dies, we should be so comfortable. She is a 
dreadful bore, for she lives in such terror of 
dropping dead with her heart-complaint that she 
doesn't take any pleasure in life herself or let 
any one else; so the sooner she goes the better 
for all of us," said Polly, in a desperate tone ; for 
things looked very black to her just then. 

‘‘ My dear, don't say that," began her mother, 
mildly shocked ; but a bluff little voice broke in 
with the forcible remark, — 


26 


Proverb Stories 


She ’s everlastingly telling me never to put 
off till to-morrow what can be done to-day ; next 
time she comes I 'll remind her of that, and ask 
her, if she is going to die, why she does n’t do 
it?” 

‘‘ Toady ! you ’re a wicked, disrespectful boy ; 
never let me hear you say such a thing again 
about your dear Aunt Kipp.” 

“ She isn’t dear! You know we all hate her, 
and you are more afraid of her than you are of 
spiders, — so now.” 

The young personage whose proper name had 
been corrupted into Toady, was a small boy of 
ten or eleven, apple-cheeked, round-eyed, and 
curly-headed; arrayed in well-worn, gray knick- 
erbockers, profusely adorned with paint, glue, 
and shreds of cotton. Perched on a high stool, 
at an isolated table in a state of chaos, he was 
absorbed in making a boat, entirely oblivious of 
the racking tooth-ache which had been his excuse 
for staying from school. As cool, saucy, hard- 
handed, and soft-hearted a little specimen of 
young America was Toady as you would care to 
see ; a tyrant at home, a rebel at school, a sworn 
foe to law, order, and Aunt Kipp. This young 
person was regarded as a reprobate by all but his 
mother, sister, and sister’s sweetheart. Van Bahr 
Lamb. Having been, through much anguish of 
flesh and spirit, taught that lying was a deadly 
sin. Toady rushed to the other extreme, and 
bolted out the truth, the whole truth and nothing 


Aunt Kipp 2 7 

but the truth, at all times and places, with a start- 
ling abruptness that brought wrath and dismay 
upon his friends and relatives. 

“ It ’s wicked to fib ; you ’ve whipped that into 
me and you can’t rub it out,” he was wont to say, 
with vivid recollection of the past tingling in the 
chubby portions of his frame. 

“ Mind your chips. Toady, and take care what 
you say to Aunt Kipp, or you ’ll be as poor as a 
little rat all the days of your life,” said Polly, 
warningly. 

‘‘ I don’t want her old money, and I ’ll tell her 
so if she bothers me about it. I shall go into 
business with Van and take care of the whole lot ; 
so don’t you preach, Polly,” returned Toady, with 
as much dignity as was compatible with a great 
dab of glue on the end of his snub nose. 

“ Mother, did aunt say anything about coming 
this week ? ” asked Polly, after a pause of intense 
thought over a breadth with three darns, two 
spots, and a burn. 

^‘Yes; she wrote that she was too feeble to 
come at present, as she had such dreadful palpi- 
tations she did n’t dare stir from her room. So 
we are quite safe for the next week at least, and 
— bless my soul, there she is now ! ” 

Mrs. Snow clasped her hands with a gesture of 
dismay, and sat as if transfixed by the spectacle 
of a ponderous lady, in an awe-inspiring bonnet, 
who came walking slowly down the street. Polly 
gave a groan, and pulled a bright ribbon from her 


28 


Proverb Stories 


hair. Toady muttered, “ Oh, bother ! ” and 
vainly attempted to polish up his countenance 
with a fragmentary pocket-handkerchief. 

‘‘ Nothing but salt fish for dinner,’' wailed Mrs. 
Snow, as the shadow of the coming event fell 
upon her. 

“ Van will make a fool of himself, and ruin 
everything,” sighed Polly, glancing at the ring 
on her finger. 

I know she '11 kiss me ; she never will let a 
fellow alone,” growled Toady, scowling darkly. 

The garden gate clashed, dust flew from the 
door-mat, a heavy step echoed in the hall, an im- 
perious voice called “ Sophy ! ” and Aunt Kipp 
entered with a flourish of trumpets, for Toady 
blew a blast through his fingers which made the 
bows totter on her bonnet. 

My dear aunt, I’m very glad to see you,” 
murmured Mrs. Snow, advancing with a smile 
of welcome; for though as weak as water gruel, 
she was as kind-hearted a little woman as ever 
lived. 

“What a fib that was!” said Toady, sotto 
voce. 

“ We were just saying we were afraid you 
would n’t ” — began Mary, when a warning, 
“ Mind now, Polly,” caused her to stop short and 
busy herself with the newcomer’s bag and um- 
brella. 

“ I changed my mind. Theodore, come and 
kiss me,” answered Aunt Kipp, briefly. 


Aunt Kipp 29 

“ Yes ’m/’ was the plaintive reply, and, closing 
his eyes. Toady awaited his fate with forti- 
tude. 

But the dreaded salute did not come, for Aunt 
Kipp exclaimed in alarm, — 

“ Mercy on us! has the boy got the plague? 

“No ’m, it 's paint, and dirt, and glue, and it 
won't come off,’’ said Toady, stroking his varie- 
gated countenance with grateful admiration for 
the stains that saved him. 

“ Go and wash this moment, sir. Thank 
Heaven, I 've got no boys,” cried Aunt Kipp, as 
if boys were some virulent disease which she had 
narrowly escaped. 

With a hasty peck at the lips of her two elder 
relatives, the old lady seated herself, and slowly 
removed the awful bonnet, which in shape and 
hue much resembled a hearse hung with black 
crape. 

“I’m glad you are better,” said Mary, rever- 
ently receiving the funereal head-gear. 

“ I ’m not better,” cut in Aunt Kipp. “ I ’m 
worse, much worse; my days are numbered; I 
stand on the brink of the tomb, and may drop at 
any moment.” 

Toady’s face was a study, as he glanced up at 
the old lady’s florid countenance, down at the 
floor, as if in search of the above-mentioned 
“ brink,” and looked unaffectedly anxious to see 
her drop. “ Why don’t you, then? ” was on his 
lips ; but a frown from Polly restrained him, and 


30 Proverb Stories 

he sat himself down on the rug to contemplate 
the corpulent victim. 

“ Have a cup of tea, aunt? ” said Mrs. Snow. 

I will.” 

“ Lie down and rest a little,” suggested Polly. 

‘‘ I won^t.” 

“ Can we do anything for you ? ” said both. 

Take my things away, and have dinner 
early.” 

Both departed to perform these behests, and, 
leaning back in her chair. Aunt Kipp reposed. 

“ I say, what 's a bore ? ” asked Toady from 
the rug, where he sat rocking meditatively to and 
fro, holding on by his shoe-strings. 

“ It 's a kind of a pig, very fierce, and folks 
are afraid of ’em,” said Aunt Kipp, whose knowl- 
edge of Natural History was limited. 

Good for Polly ! so you are ! ” sung out the 
boy, with the hearty child’s laugh so pleasant to 
most ears. 

“ What do you mean, sir? ” demanded the old 
lady, irefully poking at him with her umbrella. 

‘‘ Why, Polly said you were a bore,” explained 
Toady, with artless frankness. “ You are fat, 
you know, and fierce sometimes, and folks are 
afraid of you. Good, was n’t it? ” 

“Very! Mary is a nice, grateful, respectful, 
loving niece, and I shan’t forget her, she may 
depend on that,” and Aunt Kipp laughed grimly. 

“ May she ? well, that ’s jolly now. She was 


Aunt Kipp 3 1 

afraid you would n’t give her the money; so I ’ll 
tell her it ’s all right ; ” and innocent Toady 
nodded approvingly. 

“ Oh, she expects some of my money, does 
she?” 

“ Course she does ; ain’t you always saying 
you ’ll remember us in your will, because father 
was your favorite nephew, and all that ? I ’ll tell 
you a secret, if you won’t let Polly know I spoke 
first. You ’ll find it out to-night, for you ’d see 
Van and she were sweethearts in a minute.” 

Sweethearts ? ” cried Aunt Kipp, turning red 
in the face. 

“ Yes ’m. Van settled it last week, and Polly ’s 
been so happy ever since. Mother likes it, and I 
like it, for I ’m fond of Van, though I do call him 
Baa-baa, because he looks like a sheep. We all 
like it, and we ’d all say so, if we were not afraid 
of you. Mother and Polly, I mean; of course 
we men don’t mind, but we don’t want a fuss. 
You won’t make one, will you, now? ” 

Anything more expressive of brotherly good- 
will, persuasive frankness, and a placid con- 
sciousness of having “ fixed it,” than Toady’s 
dirty little face, it would be hard to find. Aunt 
Kipp eyed him so fiercely that even before she 
spoke a dim suspicion that something was wrong 
began to dawn on his too-confiding soul. 

/ don’t like it, and I ’ll put a stop to it. I 
won’t have any ridiculous baa-baas in my family. 


3 2 Proverb Stories 

If Mary counts on my money to begin house- 
keeping with, she’ll find herself mistaken; for 
not one penny shall she have, married or single, 
and you may tell her so.” 

Toady was so taken aback by this explosion 
that he let go his shoe-strings, fell over with a 
crash, and lay flat, with shovel and tongs spread 
upon him like a pall. In rushed Mrs. Snow and 
Polly, to find the boy’s spirits quite quenched, 
for once, and Aunt Kipp in a towering passion. 
It all came out in one overwhelming flood of 
words, and Toady fled from the storm to wander 
round the house, a prey to the deepest remorse. 
The meekness of that boy at dinner-time was so 
angelic that Mrs. Snow would have feared 
speedy translation for him, if she had not been 
very angry. Polly’s red eyes, and Aunt Kipp’s 
grifflnesque expression of countenance, weighed 
upon his soul so heavily, that even roly-poly 
pudding failed to assuage his trouble, and, taking 
his mother into the china-closet, he anxiously 
inquired ‘‘if it was all up with Polly? ” 

“ I ’m afraid so, for aunt vows she will make 
a new will to-morrow, and leave every penny to 
the Charitable Rag-bag Society,” sighed Mrs. 
Snow. 

“ I did n’t mean to do it, I truly did n’t I I 
thought I ’d just ‘ give her a hint,’ as you say. 
She looked all right, and laughed when I told 
her about being a bore, and I thought she liked 
it. If she was a man, I ’d thrash her for making 


Aunt Kipp 33 

Polly cry;” and Toady shook his fist at Aunt 
Kipp’s umbrella, which was an immense relief 
to his perturbed spirit. 

‘‘ Bless the boy I I do believe he would ! ” 
cried Mrs. Snow, watching the little turkey-cock 
with maternal pride. '' You can’t do that : so 
just be careful and not make any more mischief, 
dear.” 

“ I ’ll try, mother ; but I ’m always getting 
into scrapes with Aunt Kipp. She ’s worse than 
measles, any day, — such an old aggrawater ! 
Van ’s coming this afternoon, won’t he make her 
pleasant again ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, dear, no! He will probably make things 
ten times worse, he ’s so bashful and queer. I ’m 
afraid our last chance is gone, deary, and we 
must rub along as we have done.” 

One sniff of emotion burst from Toady, and 
for a moment he laid his head in the knife- 
tray, overcome with disappointment and regret. 
But scorning to yield to unmanly tears, he was 
soon himself again. Thrusting his beloved jack- 
knife, with three blades and a file, into Polly’s 
hand, he whispered, brokenly, — 

“ Keep it forever ’n’ ever; I ’m awful sorry I ” 
Then, feeling that the magnitude of this sacrifice 
atoned for everything, he went to watch for Van, 
— the forlorn hope to which he now clung. 


II 

OPHY, I ’m surprised at your want of 
judgment. Do you really mean to let 
your girl marry this Lamb? Why, the 
man ’s a fool ! ’’ began Aunt Kipp, after dinner, 
by way of opening a pleasant conversation with 
her relatives. 

Dear me, aunt ! how can you know that, 
when you never saw him?” mildly returned 
Mrs. Snow. 

‘‘ I Ve heard of him, and that ’s enough for 
me. I Ve a deal of penetration in judging char- 
acter, and I tell you Van Bahr Lamb is a fool.” 

The amiable old lady thought this would 
rouse Polly, against whom her anger still burned 
hotly. But Polly also possessed penetration; 
and, well knowing that contradiction would de- 
light Aunt Kipp, she completely took the wind 
out of her sails, by coolly remarking, — 

I like fools.” 

Bless my heart ! what does the girl mean ? ” 
ejaculated Aunt Kipp. 

‘‘ Just what I say. If Van is a fool, I prefer 
simpletons to wiseacres. I know he is shy and 
awkward, and does absurd things now and then. 


Aunt Kipp 35 

But I also know that he has the kindest heart 
that ever was; is unselfish, faithful and loving; 
that he took good care of his old parents till 
they died, and never thought of himself while 
they needed him. He loves me dearly ; will wait 
for me a dozen years, if I say so, and work all 
his days to make me happy. He 's a help and 
comfort to mother, a good friend to Toady, and 
I love and respect and am proud of him, though 
you do say he is a fool/' cried Polly heartily. 

‘‘ And you insist on marrying him ? " de- 
manded Aunt Kipp. 

‘‘ Yes, I do." 

“ Then I wish a carriage immediately," was 
the somewhat irrelevant reply. 

“ Why, aunt, you don't mean to go so soon ? " 
cried Mrs. Snow, with a reproachful glance at 
the rebellious Polly. 

“ Far from it. I wish to see Judge Banks 
about altering my will," was the awful answer. 

Polly's face fell; her mother gave a despair- 
ing sigh; Toady, who had hovered about the 
door, uttered a suppressed whistle of dismay; 
and Mrs. Kipp looked about her with vengeful 
satisfaction. 

“ Get the big carryall and old Bob, so the boy 
can drive, and all of you come; the trip will 
do you good." 

It was like Aunt Kipp to invite her poor rela- 
tions to go and “ nip their own noses off," as 
she elegantly expressed it. It was a party of 


36 Proverb Stories 

pleasure that just suited her, for all the fun was 
on her side. She grew affable at once, was quite 
pressing in her invitation, regretted that Sophy 
was too busy to go, praised Polly’s hat; and 
professed herself quite satisfied with “ that dear 
boy ” for a driver. The “ dear boy ” distorted 
his young countenance frightfully behind her 
back, but found a balm for every wound in the 
delight of being commander of the expedition. 

The big carryall appeared, and, with much 
creaking and swaying Mrs. Kipp was got into 
the back seat, where the big bonnet gloomed like 
a thunder-cloud. Polly, in a high state of in- 
dignation, which only made her look ten times 
prettier, sat in front with Toady, who was a 
sight to see as he drove off with his short legs 
planted against the boot, his elbows squared, 
and the big whip scientifically cracking now and 
then. Away they went, leaving poor Mrs. Snow 
to bewail herself dismally after she had smiled 
and nodded them out of sight. 

‘‘ Don’t go over any bridges or railroad cross- 
ings or by any saw-mills,” said the old lady, as 
if the town could be suddenly remodelled to suit 
her taste. 

“ Yes ’m,” returned Toady, with a crack .which 
would have done honor to a French postilion. 

It was a fine day, and the young people would 
have enjoyed the ride in spite of the breakers 
ahead, if Aunt Kipp had n’t entertained the girl 
with a glowing account of the splendors of her 


Aunt Kipp 37 

own wedding, and aggravated the boy by fre- 
quent pokes and directions in the art of driving, 
of which she was of course, profoundly igno- 
rant. Polly could n’t restrain a tear or two, in 
thinking of her own poor little prospects, and 
Toady was goaded to desperation. 

‘‘ I ’ll give her a regular shaking up ; it ’ll 
make her hold her tongue and do her good,” 
he said to himself, as a stony hill sloped tempt- 
ingly before him. 

A sly chuck, and some mysterious manoeuvre 
with the reins, and Bob started off at a brisk 
trot, as if he objected to the old lady as much 
as her mischievous little nephew. 

‘‘ Hold him in ! Keep a taut rein ! Lord ’a 
mercy, he ’s running away ! ” shrieked Aunt 
Kipp, or tried to shriek, for the bouncing and 
bumping jerked the words out of her mouth 
with ludicrous incoherency. 

“ I am holding him, but he will go,” said 
Toady, with a wicked triumph in his eye as he 
glanced back at Polly. 

The next minute the words were quite true; 
for, as he spoke, two or three distracted hens 
flew squalling over the wall and scattered about, 
under, over, and before the horse, as only dis- 
tracted hens could do. It was too much for 
Bob’s nerves; and, taking matters into his own 
hands, or feet, rather, he broke into a run, and 
rattled the old lady over the stones with a veloc- 
ity which left her speechless. 


38 Proverb Stories 

Polly laughed, and Toady chuckled, as they 
caught glimpses of the awful bonnet vibrating 
wildly in the background, and felt the frantic 
clutchings of the old lady’s hands. But both 
grew sober as a shrill car-whistle sounded not 
far off; and Bob, as if possessed by an evil spirit, 
turned suddenly into the road that led to the 
railroad crossing. 

‘'That will do. Toady; now pull up, for we 
can’t get over in time,” said Polly, glancing 
anxiously toward the rapidly approaching puffs 
of white smoke. 

“ I can’t, Polly, — I really can’t,” cried the 
boy, tugging with all his might, and beginning 
to look scared. 

Polly lent her aid; but Bob scarcely seemed 
to feel it, for he had been a racer once, and when 
his blood was up he was hard to handle. His 
own good sense might have checked him, if Aunt 
Kipp had n’t unfortunately recovered her voice 
at this crisis, and uttered a succession of the 
shrillest screams that ever saluted mortal ears. 
With a snort and a bound Bob dashed straight 
on toward the crossing, as the train appeared 
round the bend. 

“Let me out! Let me out! Jump! Jump!” 
shrieked Aunt Kipp, thrusting her head out of 
the window, while she fumbled madly for the 
door-handle. 

“ O Toady, save us! save us! ” gasped Polly, 
losing her presence of mind, and dropping the 


Aunt Kipp 39 

reins to cling to her brother, with a woman’s 
instinctive faith in the stronger sex. 

But Toady held on manfully, though his arms 
were nearly pulled off, for “ Never say die,” was 
his motto, and the plucky little lad would n’t 
show fear before the women. 

“ Don’t howl ; we ’ll do it ! Hi, Bob ! ” and 
with a savage slash of the whip, an exciting cry, 
a terrible reeling and rattling, they did do it; 
for Bob cleared the track at a breakneck pace, 
just in time for the train to sweep swiftly by 
behind them. 

Aunt Kipp dropped in a heap, Polly looked 
up at her brother, with a look which he never 
forgot; and Toady tried to say, stoutly, ‘‘It’s 
all right ! ” with lips that were white and dry 
in spite of himself. 

“We shall smash up at the bridge,” he mut- 
tered, as they tore through the town, where every 
one obligingly shouted, waved their hats, and 
danced about on the sidewalks, doing nothing 
but add to Bob’s fright and the party’s danger. 
But Toady was wrong, — they did not smash up 
at the bridge; for, before they reached the peril- 
ous spot, one man had the sense to fly straight 
at the horse’s head and hold on till the momen- 
tary check enabled others to lend a hand. 

The instant they were safe, Polly, like a reg- 
ular heroine, threw herself into the arms of her 
dishevelled preserver, who of course was Van, 
and would have refreshed herself with hysterics 


40 Proverb Stories 

if the sight of Toady had n’t steadied her. The 
boy sat as stiff and rigid as a wooden figure till 
they took the reins from him; then all the 
strength seemed to go out of him, and he leaned 
against his sister, as white and trembling as she, 

whispering with an irrepressible sob, 

** O Polly, was n t it horrid? Tell mother I 
stood by you like a man. Do tell her that ! ” 

If any one had had time or heart to laugh, 
they certainly would have, done it when, after 
much groping, heaving, and hoisting, Mrs. Kipp 
was extricated and restored to consciousness; 
for a more ludicrously deplorable spectacle was 
seldom seen. Quite unhurt, though much 
shaken, the old lady insisted on believing herself 
to be dying, and kept the town in a ferment till 
three doctors had pronounced her perfectly well 
able to go home. Then the perversity of her 
nature induced her to comply, that she might 
have the satisfaction of dying on the way, and 
proving herself in the right. 

Unfortunately she did not expire, but, having 
safely arrived, went to bed in high dudgeon, and 
led Polly and her mother a sad life of it for two 
weary days. Having heard of Toady’s gallant 
behavior, she solemnly ordered him up to re- 
ceive her blessing. But the sight of Aunt Kipp’s 
rubicund visage, surrounded by the stiff frills of 
an immense nightcap, caused the irreverent boy 
to explode with laughter in his handkerchief, 
and to be hustled away by his mother before 


Aunt Kipp 41 

Aunt Kipp discovered the true cause of his con- 
vulsed appearance. 

“ Ah ! poor dear, his feelings are too much 
for him. He sees my doom in my face, and is 
overcome by what you refuse to believe. I shan't 
forget that boy’s devotion. Now leave me to the 
meditations befitting these solemn hours.” 

Mrs. Snow retired, and Aunt Kipp tried to 
sleep; but the murmur of voices, and the sound 
of stifled laughter in the next room disturbed 
her repose. 

They are rejoicing over my approaching end, 
knowing that I have n’t changed my will. Mer- 
cenary creatures, don’t exult too soon ! there ’s 
time yet,” she muttered; and presently, unable 
to control her curiosity, she crept out of bed to 
listen and peep through the keyhole. 

Van Bahr Lamb did look rather like a sheep. 
He had a blond curly head, a long face, pale, 
mild eyes, a plaintive voice, and a general ex- 
pression of innocent timidity strongly suggestive 
of animated mutton. But Baa-baa was a 
“ trump,” as Toady emphatically declared, and 
though every one laughed at him, every one 
liked him, and that is more than can be said of 
many saints and sages. He adored Polly, was 
dutifully kind to her mother, and had stood by 
T. Snow, Jr., in many an hour of tribulation 
with fraternal fidelity. Though he had long 
blushed, sighed, and cast sheep’s eyes at the idol 
of his affections, only till lately had he dared to 


42 Proverb Stories 

bleat forth his passion. Polly loved him because 
she couldn’t help it; but she was proud, and 
would n’t marry till Aunt Kipp’s money was 
hers, or at least a sure prospect of it; and now 
even the prospect of a prospect was destroyed 
by that irrepressible Toady. They were talking 
of this as the old lady suspected, and of course 
the following conversation afforded her intense 
satisfaction. 

“ It ’s a shame to torment us as she does, 
knowing how poor we are and how happy a little 
of her money would make us. I ’m tired of 
being a slave to a cruel old woman just because 
she ’s rich. If it was not for mother, I declare 
I ’d wash my hands of her entirely, and do the 
best I could for myself.” 

‘‘ Hooray for Polly ! I always said let her 
money go and be jolly without it,” cried Toady, 
who, in his character of wounded hero, reposed 
with a lordly air on the sofa, enjoying the fra- 
grance of the opodeldoc with which his strained 
wrists were bandaged. 

“ It ’s on your account, children, that I bear 
with aunt’s temper as I do. I don’t want any- 
thing for myself, but I really think she owes 
it to your dear father, who was devoted to her 
while he lived, to provide for his children when 
he could n’t ; ” after which remarkably spirited 
speech for her, Mrs. Snow dropped a tear, and 
stitched away on a small trouser-leg which was 
suffering from a complicated compound fracture. 


Aunt Kipp 43 

" Don’t you worry about me, mother ; I ’ll 
take care of myself and you too/^ remarked 
Toady, with the cheery belief in impossibilities 
which makes youth so charming. 

Now, Van, tell us what to do, for things 
have come to such a pass that we must either 
break away altogether or be galley-slaves as long 
as Aunt Kipp lives,^’ said Polly, who was a good 
deal excited about the matter. 

‘‘ Well, really, my dear, I don’t know,” hesi- 
tated Van, who did know what he wanted, but 
thought it might be selfish to urge it. “ Have 
you tried to soften your aunt’s heart ? ” he asked, 
after a moment’s meditation. 

Good gracious. Van, she has n’t got any,” 
cried Polly, who firmly believed it. 

“ It ’s hossified,” thoughtfully remarked 
Toady, quite unconscious of any approach to a 
joke till every one giggled. 

You ’ve had hossification enough for one 
while, my lad,” laughed Van. ** Well, Polly, if 
the old lady has no heart you ’d better let her 
go, for people without hearts are not worth 
much.” 

‘‘ That ’s a beautiful remark. Van, and a wise 
one. I just wish she could hear you make it, 
for she called you a fool,” said Polly, irefully. 

“Did she? Well, I don’t mind, I’m used to 
it,” returned Van, placidly; and so he was, for 
Polly called him a goose every day of her life, 
and he enjoyed it immensely. 


Proverb Stories 


44 

“ Then you think, dear, if we stopped worry- 
ing about aunt and her money, and worked in- 
stead of waiting, that we should n’t be any 
poorer and might be a great deal happier than 
we are now ? ” asked Polly, making a pretty 
little tableau as she put her hand through Van’s 
arm and looked up at him with as much love, 
respect, and reliance as if he had been six feet 
tall, with the face of an Apollo and the manners 
of a Chesterfield. 

“Yes, my dear, I do, for it has troubled me 
a good deal to see you so badgered by that very 
uncomfortable old lady. Independence is a very 
nice thing, and poverty is n’t half as bad as this 
sort of slavery. But you are not going to be 
poor, nor worry about anything. We ’ll just be 
married and take mother and Toady home and 
be as jolly as grigs, and never think of Mrs. K. 
again, — unless she loses her fortune, or gets 
sick, or comes to grief in any way. We ’d lend 
her a hand then, wouldn’t we, Polly?” and 
Van’s mild face was pleasant to behold as he 
made the kindly proposition. 

“ Well, we ’d think of it,” said Polly, trying 
not to relent, but feeling that she was going very 
fast. 

“ Let ’s do it ! ” cried Toady, fired with the 
thought of privy conspiracy and rebellion. 
“ Mother would be so comfortable with Polly, 
and I ’d help Van in the store, when I ’ve learned 
that confounded multiplication table,” he added 


Aunt Kipp 45 

with a groan ; “ and if Aunt Kipp comes a vis- 
iting, we ’ll just say ‘Not at home,’ and let her 
trot off again.” 

“ It sounds very nice, but aunt will be dread- 
fully offended and I don’t wish to be ungrateful,” 
said Mrs. Snow, brightening visibly. 

“ There ’s no ingratitude about it,” cried Van. 
“ She might have done everything to make you 
love, and respect, and admire her, and been a 
happy, useful, motherly, old soul ; but she did n’t 
choose to, and now she must take the conse- 
quences. No one cares for her, because she cares 
for nobody ; her money ’s the plague of her life, 
and not a single heart will ache when she dies.” 

“ Poor Aunt Kipp ! ” said Polly, softly. 

Mrs. Snow echoed the words, and for a mo- 
ment all thought pitifully of the woman whose 
life had given so little happiness, whose age had 
won so little reverence, and whose death would 
cause so little regret. Even Toady had a kind 
thought for her, as he broke the silence, saying 
soberly, — 

“ You ’d better put tails on my jackets, 
mother; then the next time we get run away 
with. Aunt Kipp will have something to hold 
on by.” 

It was impossible to help laughing at the rec- 
ollection of the old lady clutching at the boy 
till he had hardly a button left, and at the pa- 
ternal air with which he now proposed a much- 
desired change of costume, as if intent on Aunt 
Kipp's future accommodation. 


46 Proverb Stories 

Under cover of the laugh, the old lady stole 
back to bed, wide awake, and with subjects 
enough to meditate upon now. The shaking up 
had certainly done her good, for somehow the 
few virtues she possessed came to the surface, 
and the mental shower-bath just received had 
prodtr^^d a salutary change. Polly would n't 
have doubted her aunt’s possession of a heart, 
if she could have known the pain and loneliness 
that made it ache, as the old woman crept away; 
and Toady would n’t have laughed if he had 
seen the tears on the face, between the big frills, 
as Aunt Kipp laid it on the pillow, muttering, 
drearily, — 

‘‘ I might have been a happy, useful woman, 
but I did n’t choose to, and now it ’s too late.” 

It wa^ too late to be all she might have been, 
for the work of seventy selfish years could n’t 
be undone in a minute. But with regret, rose 
the sincere wish to earn a little love before the 
end came, and the old perversity gave a relish to 
the reformation, for even while she resolved to 
do the just and generous thing, she said to her- 
self, — 

They say I ’ve got no heart ; I ’ll show ’em 
that I have : they don’t want my money ; I ’ll 
make ’em take it : they turn their backs on me ; 
I ’ll just render myself so useful and agreeable 
that they can’t do without me.” 


Ill 



UNT KIPP sat bolt upright in the par- 


lor, hemming a small handkerchief, 


^ adorned with a red ship, surrounded by 
a border of green monkeys. Toady suspected 
that this elegant article of dress was intended 
for him, and yearned to possess it; so, taking 
advantage of his mother’s and Polly’s absence, 
he strolled into the room, and, seating himself 
on a high, hard chair, folded his hands, crossed 
his legs, and asked for a story with the thirsting- 
for-knowledge air which little boys wear in the 
moral story-books. 

Now Aunt Kipp had one soft place in her 
heart, though it was partially ossified, as she 
very truly declared, and Toady was enshrined 
therein. She thought there never was such a 
child, and loved him as she had done his father 
before him, though the rack would n’t have 
forced her to confess it. She scolded, snubbed, 
and predicted he ’d come to a bad end in public ; 
but she forgave his naughtiest pranks, always 
brought him something when she came, and pri- 
vately intended to make his future comfortable 


Proverb Stories 


48 

with half of her fortune. There was a dash and 
daring, a generosity and integrity, about the lit- 
tle fellow, that* charmed her. Sophy was weak 
and low-spirited, Polly pretty and headstrong, 
and Aunt Kipp did n't think much of either of 
them; but Toady defied, distracted, and de- 
lighted her, and to Toady she clung, as the one 
sunshiny thing in her sour, selfish old age. 

When he made his demure request, she looked 
at him, and her eyes began to twinkle, for the 
child’s purpose was plainly seen in the loving 
glances cast upon the pictorial pocket-handker- 
chief. 

‘‘A story? Yes, I’ll tell you one about a 
little boy who had a kind old — ahem ! — 
grandma. She was rich, and had n’t made up 
her mind who she ’d leave her money to. She 
was fond of the boy, — a deal fonder than he 
deserved, — for he was as mischievous a mon- 
key as any that ever lived in a tree, with a curly 
tail. He put pepper in her snuff-box,” — here 
Toady turned scarlet, — “ he cut up her best 
frisette to make a mane for his rocking-horse,” 
— Toady opened his mouth impulsively, but 
shut it again without betraying himself — ‘‘ he 
repeated rude things to her, and called her ‘ an 
old aggrewater,’ ” — here Toady wriggled in his 
chair, and gave a little gasp. 

“ If you are tired I won’t go on,” observed 
Aunt Kipp, mildly. 

** I ’m not tired, ’m ; it ’s a very interesting 


Aunt Kipp 49 

Story,” replied Toady, with a gravity that nearly 
upset the old lady. 

Well, in spite of all this, that kind, good, 
forgiving grandma left that bad boy twenty 
thousand dollars when she died. What do you 
think of that?” asked Aunt Kipp, pausing sud- 
denly with her sharp eye on him. 

“I — I think she was a regular dear,” cried 
Toady, holding on to the chair with both hands, 
as if that climax rather took him off his legs. 

‘‘ And what did the boy do about it ? ” con- 
tinued Aunt Kipp, curiously. 

“ He bought a velocipede, and gave his sister 
half, and paid his mother’s rent, and put a splen- 
did marble cherakin over the old lady, and had 
a jolly good time, and — ” 

What in the world is a cherakin ? ” laughed 
Aunt Kipp, as Toady paused for breath. 

Why, don’t you know ? It ’s a angel crying, 
or pointing up, or flapping his wings. They 
have them over graves ; and I ’ll give you the 
biggest one I can find when you die. But I ’m 
not in a very great hurry to have you.” 

‘'Thankee, dear; I’m in no hurry, myself. 
But, Toady, the boy did wrong in giving his sis- 
ter half; she didn’t deserve any; and the 
grandma left word she was n’t to have a penny 
of it.” 

“ Really ? ” cried the boy, with a troubled face. 

“ Yes, really. If he gave her any he lost it 
all; the old lady said so. Now what do you 


50 Proverb Stories 

think ? ” asked Aunt Kipp, who found it impos- 
sible to pardon Polly, — perhaps because she 
was young, and pretty, and much beloved. 

Toady’s eyes kindled, and his red cheeks grew 
redder still, as he cried out defiantly, — 

“ I think she was a selfish pig, — don’t you ? ” 

“No, I don’t, sir; and I’m sure that little 
boy was n’t such a fool as to lose the money. 
He minded his grandma’s wishes, and kept it 
all.” 

“ No, he did n’t,” roared Toady, tumbling of¥ 
his chair in great excitement. “ He just threw 
it out a winder, and smashed the old cherakin all 
to bits.” 

Aunt Kipp dropped her work with a shrill 
squeak, for she thought the boy was dangerous, 
as he stood before her, sparring away at nothing 
as the only vent for his indignation. 

“ It is n’t an interesting story,” he cried ; 
“ and I won’t hear any more ; and I won’t have 
your money if I may n’t go halves with Polly ; 
and I ’ll work to earn more than that, and we ’ll 
all be jolly together, and you may give your 
twenty thousand to the old rag-bags, and so I 
tell you. Aunt Kipp.” 

“ Why, Toady, my boy, what ’s the matter? ” 
cried a mild voice at the door, as young Lamb 
came trotting up to the rescue. 

“ Never you mind, Baa-baa ; I shan’t do it ; 
and it ’s a mean shame Polly can’t have half ; 
then she could marry you and be so happy,” blub- 


Aunt Kipp 51 

bered Toady, running to try to hide his tears 
of disappointment in the coat-skirts of his friend. 

‘‘ Mr, Lamb, I suppose you are that misguided 
young man ? ” said Aunt Kipp, as if it was a per- 
sonal insult to herself. 

“ Van Bahr Lamb, ma’am, if you please. Yes, 
thank you,” murmured Baa-Baa, bowing, blush- 
ing, and rumpling his curly fleece in bashful 
trepidation. 

“ Don’t thank me,” cried the old lady. ** I ’m 
not going to give you anything, — far from it. 
I object to you altogether. What business have 
you to come courting my niece ? ” 

‘‘ Because I love her, ma’am,” returned Van, 
with unexpected spirit. 

“No, you don’t; you want her money, or 
rather my money. She depends on it ; but you ’ll 
both be disappointed, for she won’t have a penny 
of it,” cried Aunt Kipp, who, in spite of her 
good resolutions, found it impossible to be ami- 
able all at once. 

“ I ’m glad of it! ” burst out Van, indignant 
at her accusation. “ I did n’t want Polly for the 
money; I always doubted if she got it; and I 
never wished her to make herself a slave to any- 
body. I ’ve got enough for all, if we ’re careful ; 
and when my share of the Van Bahr property 
comes, we shall live in clover.” 

“ What ’s that ? What property are you talk- 
ing of?” demanded Aunt Kipp, pricking up her 
ears. 


5 2 Proverb Stories 

The great Van Bahr estate, ma’am. There 
has been a long lawsuit about it, but it ’s nearly 
settled, and there is n’t much doubt that we shall 
get it. I am the last of our branch, and my 
share will be a large one.” 

‘‘ Oh, indeed ! I wish you joy,” said Aunt 
Kipp, with sudden affability; for she adored 
wealth, like a few other persons in the world. 

But suppose you don’t get it, how then?” 

“ Then I shall try to be contented with my 
salary of two thousand, and make Polly as happy 
as I can. Money doesn’t always make people 
happy or agreeable, I find.” And Van looked 
at Aunt Kipp in a way that would have made 
her hair stand erect if she had possessed any. 
She stared at him a moment, then, obeying one 
of the odd whims that made an irascible weather- 
cock of her, she said, abruptly, — 

“ If you had capital should you go into busi- 
ness for yourself, Mr. Lambkin?” 

“ Yes, ma’am, at once,” replied Van, 
promptly. 

‘‘ Suppose you lost the Van Bahr money, and 
some one offered you a tidy little sum to start 
with, would you take it ? ” 

“ It would depend upon who made the offer, 
ma’am,” said Van, looking more like a sheep 
than ever, as he stood staring in blank surprise. 

‘‘ Suppose it was me, would n’t you take it ? ” 
asked Aunt Kipp, blandly, for the new fancy 
pleased her. 


Aunt Kipp 53 

“ No, thank you, ma'am,” said Van, decidedly. 

‘‘And why not, pray?” cried the old lady, 
with a shrillness that made him jump, and Toady 
back to the door precipitately. 

“ Because, if you ’ll excuse my speaking 
plainly, I think you owe anything you may have 
to spare to your niece, Mrs. Snow ; ” and, hav- 
ing freed his mind. Van joined Toady, ready 
to fly if necessary. 

“You’re an idiot, sir,” began Aunt Kipp, in 
a rage again. 

“ Thank you, ma’am.” And Van actually 
laughed and bowed in return for the compliment. 

“ Hold your tongue, sir,” snapped the old 
lady. “ You ’re a fool and Sophy is another. 
She ’s no strength of mind, no sense about any- 
thing; and would make ducks and drakes of 
my money in less than no time if I gave it to 
her, as I ’ve thought of doing.” 

“ Mrs. Kipp, you forget who you are speak- 
ing to. Mrs. Snow’s sons love and respect her 
if you don’t, and they won’t hear anything un- 
true or unkind said of a good woman, a devoted 
mother, and an almost friendless widow.” 

Van was n’t a dignified man at all, but as he 
said that with a sudden flash of his mild eyes, 
there was something in his face and manner 
that daunted Aunt Kipp more than the small fist 
belligerently shaken at her from behind the sofa. 
The poor old soul was cross, and worried, and 
ashamed of herself, and being as feeble-minded 


Proverb Stories 


54 

as Sophy in many respects, she suddenly burst 
into tears, and, covering her face with the gay 
handkerchief, cried as if bent on floating the 
red ship in a sea of salt water without delay. 

“ I 'm a poor, lonely, abused old woman,” she 
moaned, with a green monkey at each eye. “No 
one loves me, or minds me, or thanks me when 
I want to help ’em. My money ’s only a worry- 
ment and a burden, and I don’t know what to 
do with it, for people I don’t want to leave it 
to ought to have it, and people I do like won’t 
take it. Oh, deary me, what shall I do! what 
shall I do!” 

“Shall I tell you, ma’am?” asked Van, gen- 
tly, for, though she was a very provoking old 
lady, he pitied and wished to help her. 

A nod and a gurgle seemed to give consent, 
and, boldly advancing. Van said, with blush and 
a stammer, but a very hearty voice, — 

“ I think, ma’am, if you ’d do the right thing 
with your money you ’d be at ease and find it 
saved a deal of worry all round. Give it to Mrs. 
Snow ; she deserves it, poor lady, for she ’s had 
a hard time, and done her duty faithfully. Don’t 
wait till you are — that is, till you — well, till 
you in point of fact die, ma’am. Give it now, 
and enjoy the happiness it will make. Give it 
kindly, let them see you ’re glad to do it, and I 
am sure you ’ll find them grateful ; I ’m sure you 
won’t be lonely any more, or feel that you are 
not loved and thanked. Try it, ma’am, just try 


Aunt Kipp 5 5 

it/’ cried Van, getting excited by the picture 
he drew. “ And I give you my word I ’ll do 
my best to respect and love you like a son, 
ma’am.” 

He knew that he was promising a great deal, 
but for Polly’s sake he felt that he could make 
even that Herculean effort. Aunt Kipp was sur- 
prised and touched; but the contrary old lady 
could n’t make up her mind to yield so soon, and 
would n’t have done it if Toady had n’t taken 
her by storm. Having a truly masculine horror 
of tears, a very tender heart under his tailless 
jacket, and being much tumbled up and down 
in his own mind ” by the events of the week, the 
poor little lad felt nerved to attempt any novel 
enterprise, even that of voluntarily embracing 
Aunt Kipp. First a grimy little hand came on 
her shoulder, as she sat sniffing behind the hand- 
kerchief; then, peeping out, she saw an apple- 
cheeked face very near her own, with eyes full 
of pity, penitence, and affection; and then she 
heard a choky little voice say earnestly, — 

‘‘ Don’t cry, aunty ; I ’m sorry I was rude. 
Please be good to Mother and Polly, and I ’ll 
love and take care of you, and stand by you all 
my life. Yes, I ’ll — -I ’ll kiss you, I will, by 
George ! ” And with one promiscuous plunge 
the Spartan boy cast himself into her arms. 

That finished Aunt Kipp; she hugged him 
close, and cried out with a salute that went off 
like a pistol-shot, — 


56 Proverb Stories 

“ Oh, my dear, my dear ! this is better than 
a dozen cherakins ! 

When Toady emerged, somewhat flushed and 
tumbled, Mrs. Snow, Polly, and Van were look- 
ing on with faces full of wonder, doubt, and 
satisfaction. To be an object of interest was 
agreeable to Aunt Kipp; and, as her old heart 
was really softened, she met them with a gra- 
cious smile, and extended the olive-branch gen- 
erally. 

** Sophy, I shall give my money to you at once 
and entirely, only asking that you ’ll let me stay 
with you when Polly ’s gone. I ’ll do my best 
to be agreeable, and you ’ll bear with me because 
I ’m a cranky, solitary old woman, and I loved 
your husband.” 

Mrs. Snow hugged her on the spot, and 
gushed, of course, murmuring thanks, welcomes, 
and promises in one grateful burst. 

Polly, I forgive you ; I consent to your mar- 
riage, and will provide your wedding finery. 
Mr. Lamb, you are not a fool, but a very ex- 
cellent young man. I thank you for saving my 
life, and I wish you well with all my heart. You 
need n’t say anything. I ’m far from strong, 
and all this agitation is shortening my life.” 

Polly and Van shook her hand heartily, and 
beamed upon each other like a pair of infatu- 
ated turtle-doves with good prospects. 

“ Toady, you are as near an angel as a boy 
can be. Put a name to whatever you most wish 



When Toady emerged, somewhat flushed and tumbled, Mrs. Snow, 
Polly, and Van were looking on.” Page 56. 



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Aunt Kipp 57 

for in the world, and it *s yours, said Aunt 
Kipp, dramatically waving the rest away. 

With his short legs wide apart, his hands 
behind him, and his rosy face as round and radi- 
ant as a rising sun. Toady stood before the fire 
surveying the scene with the air of a man who 
has successfully carried through a difficult and 
dangerous undertaking, and was n’t proud. His 
face brightened, then fell, as he heaved a sigh, 
and answered, with a shake of his curly head, — 

“ You can’t give me what I want most. There 
are three things, and I ’ve got to wait for them 
all.” 

** Gracious me, what are they ? ” cried the old 
lady, good-naturedly, for she felt better already. 

“ A mustache, a beaver, and a sweetheart,” 
answered Toady, with his eyes fixed wistfully 
on Baa-baa, who possessed all these blessings, 
and was particularly enjoying the latter at that 
moment. 

How Aunt Kipp did laugh at this early bud- 
ding of romance in her pet! And all the rest 
joined her, for Toady’s sentimental air was irre- 
sistible. 

‘‘ You precocious chick ! I dare say you will 
have them all before we know where we are. 
Never mind, deary; you shall have my little 
watch, and the silver-headed cane with a boards 
head on it,” answered the old lady, in high good- 
humor. “ You need n’t blush, dear ; I don’t 
bear malice; so let ’s forget and forgive. I shall 


58 Proverb Stories 

settle things to-morrow, and have a free mind. 
You are welcome to my money, and I hope I 
shall live to see you all enjoy it.’^ 

So she did; for she lived to see Sophy plump, 
cheery, and care-free; Polly surrounded by a 
flock of Lambkins; Van in possession of a gen- 
erous slice of the Van Bahr fortune; Toady 
revelling in the objects of his desire; and, best 
of all, she lived to find that it is never too late 
to make oneself useful, happy, and beloved. 



“ It was a new disease called the Art fever.” Page 59, 


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PSYCHE’S ART 

“ Handsome is that handsome does.” 

I 

O NCE upon a time there raged in a cer- 
tain city one of those fashionable epi- 
demics which occasionally attack our 
youthful population. It was n’t the music mania, 
nor gymnastic convulsions, nor that wide-spread 
malady, croquet. Neither was it one of the new 
dances which, like a tarantula-bite, set every one 
a twirling, nor stage madness, nor yet that Amer- 
ican lecturing influenza which yearly sweeps 
>over the land. No, it was a new disease called 
the Art fever, and it attacked the young women 
of the community with great violence. 

Nothing but time could cure it, and it ran its 
course to the dismay, amusement, or edification 
of the beholders, for its victims did all manner 
of queer things in their delirium. They be- 
sieged potteries for clay, drove Italian plaster- 
workers out of their wits with unexecutable or- 
ders, got neuralgia and rheumatism sketching 
perched on fences and trees like artistic hens, and 
caused a rise in the price of bread, paper, and 
charcoal, by their ardor in crayoning. They 


6o Proverb Stories 

covered canvas with the expedition of scene- 
painters, had classes, lectures, receptions, and 
exhibitions, made models of each other, and ren- 
dered their walls hideous with bad likenesses 
of all their friends. Their conversation ceased 
to be intelligible to the uninitiated, and they prat- 
tled prettily of “ chiaro oscuro, French sauce, re- 
fraction of the angle of the eye, seventh spinus 
process, depth and juiciness of color, tender 
touch, and a good tone.” Even in dress the 
artistic disorder was visible; some cast aside 
crinoline altogether, and stalked about with a 
severe simplicity of outline worthy of Flaxman. 
Others flushed themselves with scarlet, that no 
landscape which they adorned should be with- 
out some touch of Turner’s favorite tint. Some 
were blue in every sense of the word, and the 
heads of all were adorned with classic braids, 
curls tied Hebe-wise, or hair dressed a la hurri- 
cane. 

It was found impossible to keep them safe at 
home, and, as the fever grew, these harmless 
maniacs invaded the sacred retreats where ar- 
tists of the other sex did congregate, startling 
those anchorites with visions of large-eyed dam- 
sels bearing portfolios in hands delicately be- 
grimed with crayon, chalk, and clay, gliding 
through the corridors hitherto haunted only by 
shabby paletots, shadowy hats, and cigar smoke. 
This irruption was borne with manly fortitude, 
not to say cheerfulness, for studio doors stood 


Psyche’s Art 6i 

hospitably open as the fair invaders passed, and 
studies from life were generously offered them 
in glimpses of picturesque gentlemen posed be- 
fore easels, brooding over master-pieces in ** a 
divine despair,’’ or attitudinizing upon couches 
as if exhausted by the soarings of genius. 

An atmosphere of romance began to pervade 
the old buildings when the girls came, and na- 
ture and art took turns. There were peepings 
and whisperings, much stifled laughter and 
whisking in and out; not to mention the acci- 
dental rencontres, small services, and eye tele- 
grams, which somewhat lightened the severe 
studies of all parties. 

Half a dozen young victims of this malady 
met daily in one of the cells of a great art 
beehive called ‘‘ Raphael’s Rooms,” and devoted 
their shining hours to modelling fancy heads, 
gossiping the while; for the poor things found 
the road to fame rather dull and dusty without 
such verbal sprinklings. 

“ Psyche Dean, you ’ve had an adventure ! I 
see it in your face; so tell it at once, for we are 
as stupid as owls here to-day,” cried one of the 
sisterhood, as a bright-eyed girl entered with 
some precipitation. 

‘‘ I dropped my portfolio, and a man picked 
it up, that’s all,” replied Psyche, hurrying on 
her gray linen pinafore. 

“ That won’t do ; I know something interest- 
ing happened, for you ’ve been blushing, and you 


62 Proverb Stories 

look brisker than usual this morning,” said the 
first speaker, polishing off the massive nose of 
her Homer. 

It was n’t anything,” began Psyche a little 
reluctantly. “ I was coming up in a hurry when 
I ran against a man coming down in a hurry. 
My portfolio slipped, and my papers went flying 
all about the landing. Of course we both 
laughed and begged pardon, and I began to pick 
them up, but he would n’t let me ; so I held the 
book while he collected the sketches. I saw him 
glance at them as he did so, and that made me 
blush, for they are wretched things, you know.” 

‘'Not a bit of it; they are capital, and you 
are a regular genius, as we all agree,” cut in 
the Homeric Miss Cutter. 

“ Never tell people they are geniuses unless 
you wish to spoil them,” returned Psyche se- 
verely. “ Well, when the portfolio was put to 
rights I was going on, but he fell to picking up 
a little bunch of violets I had dropped; you 
know I always wear a posy into town to give 
me inspiration. I didn’t care for the dusty 
flowers, and told him so, and hurried away be- 
fore any one came. At the top of the stairs I 
peeped over the railing, and there he was, gath- 
ering up every one of those half-dead violets as 
carefully as if they had been tea-roses.” 

“ Psyche Dean, you have met your fate this 
day ! ” exclaimed a third damsel, with straw- 
colored tresses, and a good deal of weedy shrub- 


Psyche’s Art 63 

bery in her hat, which gave an Ophelia-like ex- 
pression to her sentimental countenance. 

Psyche frowned and shook her head, as if half 
sorry she had told her little story. 

'‘Was he handsome?” asked Miss Larkins, 
the believer in fate. 

" I did n’t particularly observe.” 

"It was the red-headed man, whom we call 
Titian: he’s always on the stairs.” 

"No, it wasn’t; his hair was brown and 
curly,” cried Psyche, innocently falling into the 
trap. 

" Like Peerybingle’s baby when its cap was 
taken off,” quoted Miss Dickenson, who pined to 
drop the last two letters of her name. 

" Was it Murillo, the black-eyed one? ” asked 
the fair Cutter, for the girls had a name for all 
the attitudinizers and promenaders whom they 
oftenest met. 

" No, he had gray eyes, and very fine ones 
they were too,” answered Psyche, adding, as if 
to herself, " he looked as I imagine Michael 
Angelo might have looked when young.” 

" Had he a broken nose, like the great Mike? ” 
asked an irreverent damsel. 

" If he had, no one would mind it, for his 
head is splendid; he took his hat off, so I had 
a fine view. He is n’t handsome, but he ’ll do 
something,” said Psyche, prophetically, as she 
recalled the strong, ambitious face which she had 
often observed, but never mentioned before. 


64 Proverb Stories 

“ Well, dear, considering that you did n’t 
‘ particularly look ’ at the man, you ’ve given 
us a very good idea of his appearance. We ’ll 
call him Michael Angelo, and he shall be your 
idol. I prefer stout old Rembrandt myself, and 
Larkie adores that dandified Raphael,” said the 
lively Cutter, slapping away at Homer’s bald 
pate energetically, as she spoke. 

Raphael is a dear, but Rubens is more to 
my taste now,” returned Miss Larkins. ‘‘ He 
was in the hall yesterday talking with Sir 
Joshua, who had his inevitable umbrella, like 
a true Englishman. Just as I came up, the um- 
brella fell right before me. I started back; Sir 
Joshua laughed, but Rubens said, ‘ Deuce take 
it ! ’ and caught up the umbrella, giving me a 
never-to-be-forgotten look. It was perfectly 
thrilling.” 

‘‘ Which, — the umbrella, the speech, or the 
look ? ” asked Psyche, who was not sentimental. 

Ah, you have no soul for art in nature, and 
nature in art,” sighed the amber-tressed Larkins. 
‘‘ I have, for I feed upon a glance, a tint, a curve, 
with exquisite delight. Rubens is adorable {as 
a study) ; that lustrous eye, that night of hair, 
that sumptuous cheek, are perfect. He only 
needs a cloak, lace collar, and slouching hat to 
be the genuine thing.” 

“ This is n’t the genuine thing by any means. 
What does it need ? ” said Psyche, looking with 
a despondent air at the head on her stand. 


Psyche’s Art 65 

Many would have pronounced it a clever 
thing; the nose was strictly Greek, the chin 
curved upward gracefully, the mouth was 
sweetly haughty, the brow classically smooth and 
low, and the breezy hair well done. But some- 
thing was wanting; Psyche felt that, and could 
have taken her Venus by the dimpled shoulders, 
and given her a hearty shake, if that would have 
put strength and spirit into the lifeless face. 

Now I am perfectly satisfied with my Apollo, 
though you all insist that it is the image of 
Theodore Smythe. He says so himself, and as- 
sures me it will make a sensation when we ex- 
hibit,’’ remarked Miss Larkins, complacently 
caressing the ambrosial locks of her Smythified 
Phebus. 

“What shall you do if it does not?” asked 
Miss Cutter, with elegance. 

“ I shall feel that I have mistaken my sphere, 
shall drop my tools, veil my bust, and cast my- 
self into the arms of Nature, since Art rejects 
me;” replied Miss Larkins, with a tragic ges- 
ture and an expression which strongly suggested 
that in her eyes nature meant Theodore. 

“ She must have capacious arms if she is to 
receive all Art’s rejected admirers. Shall I be 
one of them ? ” 

Psyche put the question to herself as she 
turned to work, but somehow ambitious aspira- 
tions were not in a flourishing condition that 
morning; her heart was not in tune, and head 


66 Proverb Stories 

and hands sympathized. Nothing went well, for 
certain neglected home-duties had dogged her 
into town, and now worried her more than dust, 
or heat, or the ceaseless clatter of tongues. Tom, 
Dick, and Harry’s unmended hose persisted in 
dancing a spectral jig before her mental eye, 
mother’s querulous complaints spoilt the song 
she hummed to cheer herself, and little May’s 
wistful face put the goddess of beauty entirely 
out of countenance. 

“ It ’s no use; I can’t work till the clay is wet 
again. Where is Giovanni ? ” she asked, throw- 
ing down her tools with a petulant gesture and a 
dejected air. 

“ He is probably playing truant in the empty 
upper rooms, as usual. I can’t wait for him any 
longer, so I ’m doing his work myself,” answered 
Miss Dickenson, who was tenderly winding a 
wet bandage round her Juno’s face, one side of 
which was so much plumper than the other that 
it looked as if the Queen of Olympus was be- 
ing hydropathically treated for a severe fit of 
ague. 

‘‘ I ’ll go and find the little scamp ; a run will 
do me good ; so will a breath of air and a view 
of the park from the upper windows.” 

Doffing her apron, Psyche strolled away up 
an unfrequented staircase to the empty apart- 
ments, which seemed to be too high even for 
the lovers of High Art. On the western side 
they were shady and cool, and, leaning from one 


Psyche’s Art 67 

of the windows, Psyche watched the feathery 
tree-tops ruffled by the balmy wind, that brought 
spring odors from the hills, lying green and 
sunny far away. Silence and solitude were such 
pleasant companions that the girl forgot herself, 
till a shrill whistle disturbed her day-dreams, and 
reminded her what she came for. Following the 
sound she found the little Italian errand-boy 
busily uncovering a clay model which stood in 
the middle of a scantily furnished room near by. 

‘‘ He is not here ; come and look ; it is greatly 
beautiful,^^ cried Giovanni, beckoning with an 
air of importance. 

Psyche did look and speedily forgot both her 
errand and herself. It was the figure of a man, 
standing erect, and looking straight before him 
with a wonderfully lifelike expression. It was 
neither a mythological nor a historical character, 
Psyche thought, and was glad of it, being tired 
to death of gods and heroes. She soon ceased 
to wonder what it was, feeling only the inde- 
scribable charm of something higher than beauty. 
Small as her knowledge was, she could see and 
enjoy the power visible in every part of it; the 
accurate anatomy of the vigorous limbs, the 
grace of the pose, the strength and spirit in the 
countenance, clay though it was. A majestic 
figure, but the spell lay in the face, which, while 
it suggested the divine, was full of human truth 
and tenderness, for pain and passion seemed to 
have passed over it, and a humility half pathetic, 


68 Proverb Stories 

a courage half heroic seemed to have been born 
from some great loss or woe. 

How long she stood there Psyche did not 
know. Giovanni went away unseen, to fill his 
water-pail, and in the silence she just stood and 
looked. Her eyes kindled, her color rose, de- 
spondency and discontent vanished, and her soul 
was in her face, for she loved beauty passion- 
ately, and all that was best and truest in her did 
honor to the genius of the unknown worker. 

“If I could do a thing like that, I ’d die 
happy ! she exclaimed impetuously, as a feeling 
of despair came over her at the thought of her 
own poor attempts. 

“ Who did it, Giovanni ? ’’ she asked, still look- 
ing up at the grand face with unsatisfied eyes. 

“ Paul Gage.’’ 

It was not the boy’s voice, and, with a start. 
Psyche turned to see her Michael Angelo, stand- 
ing in the doorway, attentively observing her. 
Being too full of artless admiration to think of 
herself just yet, she neither blushed nor apolo- 
gized, but looked straight at him, saying heart- 
ily, — 

“ You have done a wonderful piece of work, 
and I envy you more than I can tell ! ” 

The enthusiasm in her face, the frankness of 
her manner, seemed to please him, for there was 
no affectation about either. He gave her a keen, 
kind glance out of the “ fine gray eyes,” a little 
bow, and a grateful smile, saying quietly, — 


Psyche’s Art 69 

‘‘ Then my Adam is not a failure in spite of 
his fall?’’ 

Psyche turned from the sculptor to his model 
with increased admiration in her face, and ear- 
nestness in her voice, as she exclaimed de- 
lighted, — 

“ Adam ! I might have known it was he. O 
sir, you have indeed succeeded, for you . have 
given that figure the power and pathos of the 
first man who sinned and suffered, and began 
again.” 

“ Then I am satisfied.” That was all he said, 
but the look he gave his work was a very elo- 
quent one, for it betrayed that he had paid the 
price of success in patience and privation, labor 
and hope. 

“ What can one do to learn your secret ? ” 
asked the girl wistfully, for there was nothing 
in the man’s manner to disturb her self-forget- 
ful mood, but much to foster it, because to the 
solitary worker this confiding guest was as wel- 
come as the doves who often hopped in at his 
window. 

Work and wait, and meantime feed heart, 
soul, and imagination with the best food one 
can get,” he answered slowly, finding it impos- 
sible to give a receipt for genius. 

“ I can work and wait a long time to gain 
my end; but I don’t know where to find the 
food you speak of?” she answered, looking at 
him like a hungry child. 


70 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ I wish I could tell you, but each needs dif- 
ferent fare, and each must look for it in different 
places/* 

The kindly tone and the sympathizing look, 
as well as the lines in his forehead, and a few 
gray hairs among the brown, gave Psyche cour- 
age to say more. 

I love beauty so much that I not only want 
to possess it myself, but to gain the power of 
seeing it in all things, and the art of reproducing 
it with truth. I have tried very hard to do it, but 
something is wanting; and in spite of my in- 
tense desire I never get on.** 

As she spoke the girl’s eyes filled and fell in 
spite of herself, and turning a little with sudden 
shamefacedness she saw, lying on the table beside 
her among other scraps in manuscript and print, 
the well-known lines, — 

« I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty; 

I woke, and found that life was duty. 

Was thy dream then a shadowy lie? 

Toil on, sad heart, courageously. 

And thou shalt find thy dream to be 
A noonday light and truth to thee.” 


She knew them at a glance, had read them 
many times, but now they came home to her 
with sudden force, and, seeing that his eye had 
followed hers, she said in her impulsive fash- 
ion. — 


Psyche’s Art 71 

“ Is doing one's duty a good way to feed 
heart, soul, and imagination ? " 

As if he had caught a glimpse of what was 
going on in her mind, Paul answered emphat- 
ically, — 

‘‘ Excellent ; for if one is good, one is happy, 
and if happy, one can work well. Moulding 
character is the highest sort of sculpture, and 
all of us should learn that art before we touch 
clay or marble." 

He spoke with the energy of a man who be- 
lieved what he said, and did his best to be worthy 
of the rich gift bestowed upon him. The sight 
of her violets in a glass of water, and Giovanni 
staring at her with round eyes, suddenly recalled 
Psyche to a sense of the proprieties which she 
had been innocently outraging for the last ten 
minutes. A sort of panic seized her; she blushed 
deeply, retreated precipitately to the door, and 
vanished, murmuring thanks and apologies as 
she went. 

‘‘ Did you find him? I thought you had for- 
gotten," said Miss Dickenson, now hard at 
work. 

“ Yes, I found him. No, I shall not forget," 
returned Psyche, thinking of Gage, not Giovanni. 

She stood before her work eying it intently 
for several minutes; then, with an expression of 
great contempt for the whole thing, she sud- 
denly tilted her cherished Venus on to the floor, 
gave the classical face a finishing crunch, and 


7 2 Proverb Stories 

put on her hat in a decisive manner, saying 
briefly to the dismayed damsels, — 

‘‘ Good-by, girls ; I shan’t come any more, 
for I ’m going to work at home hereafter.” 


II 

T he prospect of pursuing artistic studies 
at home was not brilliant, as one may 
imagine when I mention that Psyche’s 
father was a painfully prosaic man, wrapt in 
flannel, so to speak; for his woollen mills left 
him no time for anything but sleep, food, and 
newspapers. Mrs. Dean was one of those ex- 
asperating women who pervade their mansions 
like a domestic steam-engine one week and take 
to their sofas the next, absorbed by fidgets and 
foot-stoves, shawls and lamentations. There 
were three riotous and robust young brothers, 
whom it is unnecessary to describe except by 
stating that they were hoys in the broadest sense 
of that delightful word. There was a feeble 
little sister, whose patient, suffering face de- 
manded constant love and care to mitigate the 
weariness of a life of pain. And last, but not 
least by any means, there were two Irish ladies, 
who, with the best intentions imaginable, pro- 
duced a universal state of topsy-turviness when 
left to themselves for a moment. 

But being very much in earnest about doing 


74 Proverb Stories 

her duty, not because it was her duty, but as 
a means toward an end. Psyche fell to work with 
a will, hoping to serve both masters at once. So 
she might have done, perhaps, if flesh and blood 
had been as plastic as clay, but the live models 
were so exacting in their demands upon her 
time and strength, that the poor statues went 
to the wall. Sculpture and sewing, calls and 
crayons, Ruskin and receipt-books, didn't work 
well together, and poor Psyche found duties and 
desires desperately antagonistic. Take a day as 
a sample. 

The washing and ironing are well over, thank 
goodness, mother quiet, the boys out of the way, 
and May comfortable, so I ’ll indulge myself in 
a blissful day after my own heart,” Psyche said, 
as she shut herself into her little studio, and pre- 
pared to enjoy a few hours of hard study and 
happy day-dreams. 

With a book on her lap, and her own round 
white arm going through all manner of queer 
evolutions, she was placidly repeating, “ Del- 
toides, Biceps, Triceps, Pronator, Supinator, 
Palmanis, Flexor carpi ulnaris — ” 

“ Here ’s Flexis what-you-call-ums for you,” 
interrupted a voice, which began in a shrill fal- 
setto and ended in a gruff bass, as a flushed, 
dusty, long-legged boy burst in, with a bleeding 
hand obligingly extended for inspection. 

“ Mercy on us, Harry ! what have you done 
to yourself now? Split your fingers with a 


Psyche’s Art 75 

cricket-ball again?’* cried Psyche, as her arms 
went up and her book went down. 

I just thrashed one of the fellows because 
he got mad and said father was going to fail.” 

O Harry, is he ? ” 

“ Of course he is n’t ! It ’s hard times for 
every one, but father will pull through all right. 
No use to try and explain it all; girls can’t 
understand business; so you just tie me up, and 
don’t worry,” was the characteristic reply of the 
young man, who, being three years her junior, 
of course treated the weaker vessel with lordly 
condescension. 

‘‘ What a dreadful wound ! I hope nothing 
is broken, for I haven’t studied the hand much 
yet, and may do mischief doing it up,” said 
Psyche, examining the great grimy paw with 
tender solicitude. 

“ Much good your biceps, and deltoids, and 
things do you, if you can’t right up a little cut 
like that,” squeaked the ungrateful hero. 

“ I ’m not going to be a surgeon, thank 
heaven; I intend to make perfect hands and 
arms, not mend damaged ones,” retorted Psyche, 
in a dignified tone, somewhat marred by a great 
piece of court-plaster on her tongue. 

I should say a surgeon could improve that 
perfect thing, if he did n’t die a-laughing before 
he began,” growled Harry, pointing with a 
scornful grin at a clay arm humpy with muscles, 
all carefully developed in the wrong places. 


76 Proverb Stories 

** Don’t sneer, Hal, for you don’t know any- 
thing about it. Wait a few years and see if 
you ’re not proud of me.” 

“ Sculp away and do something, then I ’ll hur- 
rah for your mud-pies like a good one ; ” with 
which cheering promise the youth left, having 
effectually disturbed his sister’s peaceful mood. 

Anxious thoughts of her father rendered bi- 
ceps, deltoids, and things ” uninteresting, and 
hoping to compose her mind, she took up The 
Old Painters and went on with the story of 
Claude Lorraine. She had just reached the ten- 
der scene where, — 

Calista gazed with enthusiasm, while she 
looked like a being of heaven rather than earth. 
‘ My friend,’ she cried, ‘ I read in thy picture 
thy immortality ! ’ As she spoke, her head sunk 
upon his bosom, and it was several moments be- 
fore Claude perceived that he supported a life- 
less form.” 

How sweet ! ” said Psyche, with a romantic 
sigh. 

Faith, and swate it is, thin!” echoed Katy, 
whose red head had just appeared round the half 
opened door. “ It ’s gingy-bread I ’m making 
the day, miss, and will I be puttin’ purlash or 
sallyrathis into it, if ye plase? ” 

‘‘ Purlash, by all means,” returned the girl, 
keeping her countenance, fearing to enrage Katy 
by a laugh; for the angry passions of the red- 
haired one rose more quickly than her bread. 


Psyche’s Art 77 

As she departed with alacrity to add a spoonful 
of starch and a pinch of whiting to her cake, 
Psyche, feeling better for her story and her 
smile, put on her bib and paper cap and fell to 
work on the deformed arm. An hour of bliss, 
then came a ring at the door-bell, followed by 
Biddy to announce callers^ and add that as ‘‘ the 
mistress was in her bed, miss must go and take 
care of ’em.'’ Whereat ‘‘ miss ” cast down her 
tools in despair, threw her cap one way, her bib 
another, and went in to her guests with anything 
but a rapturous welcome. 

Dinner being accomplished after much rush- 
ing up and down stairs with trays and messages 
for Mrs. Dean, Psyche fled again to her studio, 
ordering no one to approach under pain of a 
scolding. All went well till, going in search of 
something, she found her little sister sitting on 
the floor with her cheek against the studio door. 

“ I did n’t mean to be naughty, Sy, but mother 
is asleep, and the boys all gone, so I just came 
to be near you ; it ’s so lonely everywhere,” she 
said, apologetically, as she lifted up the heavy 
head that always ached. 

‘‘ The boys are very thoughtless. Come in and 
stay with me; you are such a mouse you won’t 
disturb me. Would n’t you like to play be a 
model and let me draw your arm, and tell you 
all about the nice little bones and muscles ? ” 
asked Psyche, who had the fever very strong 
upon her just then. 


7 8 Proverb Stories 

May didn’t look as if the proposed amuse- 
ment overwhelmed her with delight, but meekly 
consented to be perched upon a high stool with 
one arm propped up by a dropsical plaster 
cherub, while Psyche drew busily, feeling that 
duty and pleasure were being delightfully com- 
bined. 

‘‘Can’t you hold your arm still, child? It 
shakes so I can’t get it right,” she said, rather 
impatiently. 

“ No, it will tremble ’cause it ’s weak. I try 
hard, Sy, but there does n’t seem to be much 
strongness in me lately.” 

“ That ’s better ; keep it so a few minutes and 
I ’ll be done,” cried the artist, forgetting that a 
few minutes may seem ages. 

“ My arm is so thin you can see the bunches 
nicely, — can’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

Psyche glanced up at the wasted limb, and 
when she drew again there was a blur before 
her eyes for a minute. 

“ I wish I was as fat as this white boy ; but 
I get thinner every day somehow, and pretty 
soon there won’t be any of me left but my little 
bones,” said the child, looking at the winged 
cherub with sorrowful envy. 

“ Don’t, my darling ; don’t say that,” cried 
Psyche, dropping her work with a sudden pang 
at her heart. “ I ’m a sinful, selfish girl to keep 
you here! you’re weak for want of air; come 


Psyche’s Art 79 

out and see the chickens, and pick dandelions, 
and have a good romp with the boys/’ 

The weak arms were strong enough to clasp 
Psyche’s neck, and the tired face brightened 
beautifully as the child exclaimed, with grateful 
delight, — 

‘‘ Oh, I ’d like it very much ! I wanted to go 
dreadfully; but everybody is so busy all the 
time. I don’t want to play, Sy; but just to lie 
on the grass with my head in your lap while 
you tell stories and draw me pretty things as you 
used to.” 

The studio was deserted all that afternoon, 
for Psyche sat in the orchard drawing squirrels 
on the wall, pert robins hopping by, buttercups 
and mosses, elves and angels; while May lay 
contentedly enjoying sun and air, sisterly care, 
and the ‘‘ pretty things ” she loved so well. 
Psyche did not find the task a hard one; for this 
time her heart was in it, and if she needed 
any reward she surely found it; for the little 
face on her knee lost its weary look, and the 
peace and beauty of nature soothed her own 
troubled spirit, cheered her heart, and did her 
more good than hours of solitary study. 

Finding, much to her own surprise, that her 
fancy was teeming with lovely conceits, she did 
hope for a quiet evening. But mother wanted 
a bit of gossip, father must have his papers read 
to him, the boys had lessons and rips and griev- 
ances to be attended to, May’s lullaby could not 


8o Proverb Stories 

be forgotten, and the maids had to be looked 
after, lest burly ‘‘ cousins ’’ should be hidden in 
the boiler, or lucifer matches among the shav- 
ings. So Psyche’s day ended, leaving her very 
tired, rather discouraged, and almost heart-sick 
with the shadow of a coming sorrow. 

All summer she did her best, but accomplished 
very little, as she thought; yet this was the 
teaching she most needed, and in time she came 
to see it. In the autumn May died, whispering, 
with her arms about her sister’s neck, — 

“ You make me so happy, Sy, I would n’t mind 
the pain if I could stay a little longer. But if 
I can’t, good-by, dear, good-by.” 

Her last look and word and kiss were all for 
Psyche, who felt then with grateful tears that 
her summer had not been wasted; for the smile 
upon the little dead face was more to her than 
any marble perfection her hands could have 
carved. 

In the solemn pause which death makes in 
every family. Psyche said, with the sweet self- 
forgetfulness of a strong yet tender nature, — 

‘‘ I must not think of myself, but try to com- 
fort them ; ” and with this resolution she gave 
herself heart and soul to duty, never thinking 
of reward. 

A busy, anxious, humdrum winter, for, as 
Harry said, “ it was hard times for every one.” 
Mr. Dean grew gray with the weight of business 
cares about which he never spoke; Mrs. Dean, 


8i 


Psyche’s Art 

laboring under the delusion that an invalid was 
a necessary appendage to the family, installed 
herself in the place the child’s death left vacant, 
and the boys needed much comforting, for the 
poor lads never knew how much they loved the 
baby ” till the little chair stood empty. All 
turned to Sy for help and consolation, and her 
strength seemed to increase with the demand 
upon it. Patience and cheerfulness, courage and 
skill came at her call like good fairies who had 
bided their time. Housekeeping ceased to be 
hateful, and peace reigned in parlor and kitchen 
while Mrs. Dean, shrouded in shawls, read 
Hahnemann’s Lesser Writings on her sofa. Mr. 
Dean sometimes forgot his mills when a bright 
face came to meet him, a gentle hand smoothed 
the wrinkles out of his anxious forehead, and 
a daughterly heart sympathized with all his 
cares. The boys found home very pleasant with 
Sy always there ready to ** lend a hand,” whether 
it was to make fancy ties, help conjugate “ a 
confounded verb,” pull candy, or sing sweetly 
in the twilight when all thought of little May 
and grew quiet. 

The studio door remained locked till her 
brothers begged Psyche to open it and make a 
bust of the child. A flush of joy swept over her 
face at the request, and her patient eyes grew 
bright and eager, as a thirsty traveller’s might 
at the sight or sound of water. Then it faded 
as she shook her head, saying with a regretful 


8 2 Proverb Stories 

sigh, I ’m afraid I Ve lost the little skill I ever 
had/’ 

But she tried, and with great wonder and de- 
light discovered that she could work as she had 
never done before. She thought the newly found 
power lay in her longing to see the little face 
again; for it grew like magic under her loving 
hands, while every tender memory, sweet 
thought, and devout hope she had ever cher- 
ished, seemed to lend their aid. But when it 
was done and welcomed with tears and smiles, 
and praise more precious than any the world 
could give, then Psyche said within herself, like 
one who saw light at last, — 

‘‘ He was right ; doing one’s duty is the way 
to feed heart, soul, and imagination; for if one 
is good, one is happy, and if happy^ one can work 
well.” 


Ill 

“ HE broke her head and went home to 
come no more,’^ was Giovanni’s some- 
what startling answer when Paul asked 
about Psyche, finding that he no longer met her 
on the stairs or in the halls. He understood 
what the boy meant, and with an approving nod 
turned to his work again, saying, “ I like that ! 
If there is any power in her, she has taken the 
right way to find it out, I suspect.” 

How she prospered he never asked ; for, 
though he met her more than once that year, 
the interviews were brief ones in street, concert- 
room, or picture-gallery, and she carefully 
avoided speaking of herself. But, possessing 
the gifted eyes which can look below the sur- 
face of things, he detected in the girl’s face 
something better than beauty, though each time 
he saw it, it looked older and more thoughtful, 
often anxious and sad. 

She is getting on,” he said to himself with 
a cordial satisfaction which gave his manner a 
friendliness as grateful to Psyche as his wise 
reticence. 


84 Proverb Stories 

Adam was finished at last, proved a genuine 
success, and Paul heartily enjoyed the well- 
earned reward for years of honest work. One 
blithe May morning, he slipped early into the 
art-gallery, where the statue now stood, to look 
at his creation with paternal pride. He was 
quite alone with the stately figure that shone 
white against the purple draperies and seemed 
to offer him a voiceless welcome from its marble 
lips. He gave it one loving look, and then for- 
got it, for at the feet of his Adam lay a handful 
of wild violets, with the dew still on them. A 
sudden smile broke over his face as he took them 
up, with the thought, She has been here and 
found my work good.’^ 

For several moments he stood thoughtfully 
turning the flowers to and fro in his hands; 
then, as if deciding some question within him- 
self, he said, still smiling, — 

‘‘It is just a year since she went home; she 
must have accomplished something in that time; 
I ’ll take the violets as a sign that I may go and 
ask her what.” 

He knew she lived just out of the city, be- 
tween the river and the mills, and as he left the 
streets behind him, he found more violets bloom- 
ing all along the way like flowery guides to lead 
him right. Greener grew the road, balmier blew 
the wind, and blither sang the birds, as he went 
on, enjoying his holiday with the zest of a boy, 
until he reached a most attractive little path 


Psyche’s Art 85 

winding away across the fields. The gate swung 
invitingly open, and all the ground before it was 
blue with violets. Still following their guidance 
he took the narrow path, till, coming to a mossy 
stone beside a brook, he sat down to listen to 
the blackbirds singing deliciously in the willows 
over head. Close by the stone, half hidden in 
the grass lay a little book, and, taking it up he 
found it was a pocket-diary. No name appeared 
on the fly-leaf, and, turning the pages to find 
some clue to its owner, he read here and there 
enough to give him glimpses into an innocent 
and earnest heart which seemed to be learning 
some hard lesson patiently. Only near the end 
did he find the clue in words of his own, spoken 
long ago, and a name. Then, though longing 
intensely to know more, he shut the little book 
and went on, showing by his altered face that 
the simple record of a girl's life had touched 
him deeply. 

Soon an old house appeared nestling to the 
hillside with the river shining in the low green 
meadows just before it. 

“ She lives there," he said, with as much cer- 
tainty as if the pansies by the door-stone spelt 
her name, and, knocking, he asked for Psyche. 

“ She 's gone to town, but I expect her home 
every minute. Ask the gentleman to walk in 
and wait, Katy," cried a voice from above, where 
the whisk of skirts was followed by the appear- 
ance of an inquiring eye over the banisters. 


86 Proverb Stories 

The gentleman did walk in, and while he 
waited looked about him. The room, though 
very simply furnished, had a good deal of beauty 
m it, for the pictures were few and well chosen, 
the books such as never grow old, the music lying 
on the well-worn piano of the sort which is never 
out of fashion, and standing somewhat apart 
was one small statue in a recess full of flowers. 
Lovely in its simple grace and truth was the 
figure of a child looking upward as if watching 
the airy flight of some butterfly which had evi- 
dently escaped from the chrysalis still lying in 
the little hand. 

Paul was looking at it with approving eyes 
when Mrs. Dean appeared with his card in her 
hand, three shawls on her shoulders, and in her 
face a somewhat startled expression, as if she 
expected some novel demonstration from the 
man whose genius her daughter so much ad- 
mired. 

“ I hope Miss Psyche is well,'' began Paul, 
with great discrimination if not originality. 

The delightfully commonplace remark tran- 
quillized Mrs. Dean at once, and, taking off the 
upper shawl with a fussy gesture, she settled 
herself for a chat. 

“ Yes, thank heaven, Sy is well. I don't know 
what would become of us if she was n't. It has 
been a hard and sorrowful year for us with Mr. 
Dean's business embarrassments, my feeble 
health, and May's death. I don't know that you 


Psyche’s Art 87 

were aware of our loss, sir;’' and unaffected 
maternal grief gave sudden dignity to the faded, 
fretful face of the speaker. 

Paul murmured his regrets, understanding 
better now the pathetic words on a certain tear- 
stained page of the little book still in his pocket. 

‘‘ Poor dear, she suffered everything, and it 
came very hard upon Sy, for the child was n’t 
happy with any one else, and almost lived in her 
arms,” continued Mrs. Dean, dropping the sec- 
ond shawl to get her handkerchief. 

“ Miss Psyche has not had much time for art- 
studies this year, I suppose ? ” said Paul, hoping 
to arrest the shower, natural as it was. 

“ How could she with two invalids, the house- 
keeping, her father and the boys to attend to? 
No, she gave that up last spring, and though it 
was a great disappointment to her at the time, 
she has got over it now, I hope,” added her 
mother, remembering as she spoke that Psyche 
even now went about the house sometimes pale 
and silent, with a hungry look in her eyes. 

“ I am glad to hear it,” though a little shadow 
passed over his face as Paul spoke, for he was 
too true an artist to believe that any work could 
be as happy as that which he loved and lived for. 
‘‘ I thought there was much promise in Miss 
Psyche, and I sincerely believe that time will 
prove me a true prophet,” he said, with mingled 
regret and hope in his voice, as he glanced about 
the room, which betrayed the tastes still cher- 
ished by the girl. 


88 


Proverb Stories 


I ’m afraid ambition is n’t good for women ; 
I mean the sort that makes them known by com- 
ing before the public in any way. But Sy de- 
serves some reward, I ’m sure, and I know she ’ll 
have it, for a better daughter never lived.” 

Here the third shawl was cast off, as if the 
thought of Psyche, or the presence of a genial 
guest had touched Mrs. Dean’s chilly nature 
with a comfortable warmth. 

Further conversation was interrupted by the 
avalanche of boys which came tumbling down 
the front stairs, as Tom, Dick, and Harry 
shouted in a sort of chorus, — 

“ Sy, my balloon has got away; lend us a 
hand at catching him 1 ” 

“ Sy, I want a lot of paste made, right off.” 

‘‘ Sy, I’ve split my jacket down the back; 
come sew me up, there ’s a dear ! ” 

On beholding a stranger the young gentlemen 
suddenly lost their voices, found their manners, 
and with nods and grins took themselves away 
as quietly as could be expected of six clumping 
boots and an unlimited quantity of animal spirits 
in a high state of effervescence. As they trooped 
off, an unmistakable odor of burnt milk pervaded 
the air, and the crash of china, followed by an 
Irish wail, caused Mrs. Dean to clap on her 
three shawls again and excuse herself in visible 
trepidation. 

Paul laughed quietly to himself, then turned 
sober and said, “ Poor Psyche ! ” with a sym- 


Psyche’s Art 89 

pathetic sigh. He roamed about the room impa- 
tiently till the sound of voices drew him to the 
window to behold the girl coming up the walk 
with her tired old father leaning on one arm, 
the other loaded with baskets and bundles, 
and her hands occupied by a remarkably ugly 
turtle. 

“ Here we are! cried a cheery voice, as they 
entered without observing the new-comer. 
“ I Ve done all my errands and had a lovely 
time. There is Tom's gunpowder, Dick’s fish- 
hooks, and one of Professor Gazzy’s famous tur- 
tles for Harry. Here are your bundles, mother 
dear, and, best of all, here ’s father home in time 
for a good rest before dinner. I went to the 
mill and got him.” 

Psyche spoke as if she had brought a treasure; 
and so she had, for though Mr. Dean’s face 
usually was about as expressive as the turtle’s, 
it woke and warmed with the affection which his 
daughter had fostered till no amount of flannel 
could extinguish it. His big hand patted her 
cheek very gently as he said, in a tone of fatherly 
love and pride, — 

‘‘ My little Sy never forgets old father, does 
she ? ” 

“ Good gracious me, my dear, there ’s such a 
mess in the kitchen! Katy’s burnt up the pud- 
ding, put castor-oil instead of olive in the salad, 
smashed the best meat-dish, and here’s Mr. 
Gage come to dinner/’ cried Mrs. Dean in ac- 


90 Proverb Stories 

cents of despair as she tied up her head in a 
fourth shawl. 

“ Oh, I ’m so glad ; I ’ll go in and see him 
a few minutes, and then I ’ll come and attend 
to everything; so don’t worry, mother.” 

‘‘ How did you find me out ? ” asked Psyche 
as she shook hands with her guest and stood 
looking up at him with all the old confiding 
frankness in her face and manner. 

“ The violets showed me the way.” 

She glanced at the posy in his button-hole and 
smiled. 

‘‘Yes, I gave them to Adam, but I didn’t 
think you would guess. I enjoyed your work 
for an hour to-day, and I have no words strong 
enough to express my admiration.” 

“ There is no need of any. Tell me about 
yourself; what have you been doing all this 
year ? ” he asked, watching with genuine satis- 
faction the serene and sunny face before him, 
for discontent, anxiety, and sadness were no 
longer visible there. 

“ I ’ve been working and waiting,” she began. 

“ And succeeding, if I may believe what I see 
and hear and read,” he said, with an expressive 
little wave of the book as he laid it down before 
her. 

“ My diary ! I did n’t know I had lost it. 
Where did you find it? ” 

“ By the brook where I stopped to rest. The 
moment I saw your name I shut it up. Forgive 


Psyche’s Art gi 

me, but I can’t ask pardon for reading a few 
pages of that little gospel of patience, love, and 
self-denial.” 

She gave him a reproachful look, and hurried 
the telltale book out of sight as she said, with 
a momentary shadow on her face, — 

It has been a hard task ; but I think I have 
learned it, and am just beginning to find that 
my dream is ‘ a noonday light and truth,’ to 

ff 

me. 

‘‘ Then you do not relinquish your hopes, and 
lay down your tools?” he asked, with some 
eagerness. 

‘‘ Never ! I thought at first that I could not 
serve two masters, but in trying to be faithful 
to one I find I am nearer and dearer to the other. 
My cares and duties are growing lighter every 
day (or I have learned to bear them better), and 
when my leisure does come I shall know how 
to use it, for my head is full of ambitious plans, 
and I feel that I can do something now/* 

All the old enthusiasm shone in her eyes, and 
a sense of power betrayed itself in voice and 
gesture as she spoke. 

‘‘ I believe it,” he said heartily. You have 
learned the secret, as that proves.” 

Psyche looked at the childish image as he 
pointed to it, and into her face there came a 
motherly expression that made it very sweet. 

“ That little sister was so dear to me I could 
not fail to make her lovely, for I put my heart 


9 2 Proverb Stories 

into my work. The year has gone, but I don^t 
regret it, though this is all I have done.” 

“You forget your three wishes; I think the 
year has granted them.” 

“ What were they ? ” 

“To possess beauty in yourself, the power of 
seeing it in all things, and the art of reproducing 
it with truth.” 

She colored deeply under the glance which 
accompanied the threefold compliment, and an- 
swered with grateful humility, — 

“ You are very kind to say so; I wish I could 
believe it.” Then, as if anxious to forget her- 
self, she added rather abruptly, — 

“ I hear you think of giving your Adam a 
mate, — have you begun yet ? ” 

“ Yes, my design is finished, all but the face.” 

“ I should think you could image Eve^s beauty, 
since you have succeeded so well with Adames.” 

“ The features perhaps, but not the expression. 
That is the charm of feminine faces, a charm so 
subtile that few can catch and keep it. I want 
a truly womanly face, one that shall be sweet 
and strong without being either weak or hard. 
A hopeful, loving, earnest face with a tender 
touch of motherliness in it, and perhaps the 
shadow of a grief that has softened but not sad- 
dened it.” 

“ It will be hard to find a face like that.” 

“ I don’t expect to find it in perfection ; but 
One sometimes sees faces which suggest all this. 


Psyche’s Art 93 

and in rare moments give glimpses of a lovely 
possibility.’’ 

“ I sincerely hope you will find one then,” said 
Psyche, thinking of the dinner. 

“ Thank you; I think I have.” 

Now, in order that every one may be suited, 
we will stop here, and leave our readers to finish 
the story as they like. Those who prefer the 
good old fashion may believe that the hero and 
heroine fell in love, were married, and lived hap- 
pily ever afterward. But those who can con- 
ceive of a world outside of a wedding-ring may 
believe that the friends remained faithful friends 
all their lives, while Paul won fame and fortune, 
and Psyche grew beautiful with the beauty of a 
serene and sunny nature, happy in duties which 
became pleasures, rich in the art which made life 
lovely to herself and others, and brought rewards 
in time. 






'A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 

A handful of good life is worth a bushel of learning.’ 


D ear EMILY, — I have a brilliant 
idea, and at once hasten to share it 
with you. Three weeks ago I came 
up here to the wilds of Vermont to visit my old 
aunt, also to get a little quiet and distance in 
which to survey certain new prospects which 
have opened before me, and to decide whether 
I will marry a millionnaire and become a queen 
of society, or remain ‘ the charming Miss 
Vaughan ' and wait till the conquering hero 
comes. 

‘‘ Aunt Plumy begs me to stay over Christmas, 
and I have consented, as I always dread the 
formal dinner with which my guardian celebrates 
the day. 

‘‘ My brilliant idea is this. I ’m going to make 
it a real old-fashioned frolic, and won^t you come 
and help me? You will enjoy it immensely I am 
sure, for Aunt is a character. Cousin Saul worth 
seeing, and Ruth a far prettier girl than any of 
the city rose-buds coming out this season. Bring 
Leonard Randal along with you to take notes 
for his new books; then it will be fresher and 
truer than the last, clever as it was. 


g6 Proverb Stories 

The air is delicious up here, society amus- 
ing, this old farmhouse full of treasures, and 
your bosom friend pining to embrace you. Just 
telegraph yes or no, and we will expect you on 
Tuesday. Ever yours, 

“ Sophie Vaughan.’’ 

‘‘ They will both come, for they are as tired 
of city life and as fond of change as I am,” said 
the writer of the above, as she folded her letter 
and went to get it posted without delay. 

Aunt Plumy was in the great kitchen making 
pies; a jolly old soul, with a face as ruddy as 
a winter apple, a cheery voice, and the kindest 
heart that ever beat under a gingham gown. 
Pretty Ruth was chopping the mince, and sing- 
ing so gaily as she worked that the four^and- 
twenty immortal blackbirds could not have put 
more music into a pie than she did. Saul was 
piling wood into the big oven, and Sophie paused 
a moment on the threshold to look at him, for 
she always enjoyed the sight of this stalwart 
cousin, whom she likened to a Norse viking, 
with his fair hair and beard, keen blue eyes, and 
six feet of manly height, with shoulders that 
looked broad and strong enough to bear any 
burden. 

His back was toward her, but he saw her first, 
and turned his flushed face to meet her, with the 
sudden lighting up it always showed when she 
approached. 


A Country Christmas 97 

‘‘ I Ve done it, Aunt ; and now I want Saul 
to post the letter, so we can get a speedy an- 
swer.’’ 

Just as soon as I can hitch up, cousin; ” and 
Saul pitched in his last log, looking ready to put 
a girdle round the earth in less than forty min- 
utes. 

** Well, dear, I ain’t the least mite of objec- 
tion, as long as it pleases you. I guess we can 
Stan’ it ef your city folks can. I presume to say 
things will look kind of sing’lar to ’em, but I 
s’pose that ’s what they come for. Idle folks do 
dreadful queer things to amuse ’em; ” and Aunt 
Plumy leaned on the rolling-pin to smile and 
nod with a shrewd twinkle of her eye, as if she 
enjoyed the prospect as much as Sophie did. 

** I shall be afraid of ’em, but I ’ll try not to 
make you ashamed of me,” said Ruth, who loved 
her charming cousin even more than she admired 
her. 

‘‘ No fear of that, dear. They will be the 
awkward ones, and you must set them at ease 
by just being your simple selves, and treating 
them as if they were every-day people. Nell is 
very nice and jolly when she drops her city ways, 
as she must here. She will enter into the spirit 
of the fun at once, and I know you ’ll all like 
her. Mr. Randal is rather the worse for too 
much praise and petting, as successful people are 
apt to be, so a little plain talk and rough work 
will do him good. He is a true gentleman in 


9 8 Proverb Stories 

Spite of his airs and elegance, and he will take 
it all in good part, if you treat him like a man 
and not a lion.’^ 

‘‘ I ’ll see to him,” said Saul, who had listened 
with great interest to the latter part of Sophie’s 
speech, evidently suspecting a lover, and enjoy- 
ing the idea of supplying him with a liberal 
amount of “ plain talk and rough work.” 

'' I ’ll keep ’em busy if that ’s what they need, 
for there will be a sight to do, and we can’t get 
help easy up here. Our darters don’t hire out 
much. Work to home till they marry, and don’t 
go gaddin’ ’round gettin’ their heads full of fool- 
ish notions, and forgettin’ all the useful things 
their mothers taught ’em.” 

Aunt Plumy glanced at Ruth as she spoke, 
and a sudden color in the girl’s cheeks proved 
that the words hit certain ambitious fancies of 
this pretty daughter of the house of Basset. 

“ They shall do their parts and not be a 
trouble ; I ’ll see to that, for you certainly are 
the dearest aunt in the world to let me take pos- 
session of you and yours in this way,” cried 
Sophie, embracing the old lady with warmth. 

^0 Saul wished the embrace could be returned 

by proxy, as his mother’s hands were too floury 
to do more than hover affectionately round the 
delicate face that looked so fresh and young 
beside her wrinkled one. As it could not be 
done, he fled temptation and hitched up ” with- 
out delay. 


A Country Christmas 99 

The three women laid their heads together in 
his absence, and Sophie’s plan grew apace, for 
Ruth longed to see a real novelist and a fine lady, 
and Aunt Plumy, having plans of her own to 
further, said Yes, dear,” to every suggestion. 

Great was the arranging and adorning that 
went on that day in the old farmhouse, for 
Sophie wanted her friends to enjoy this taste 
of country pleasures, and knew just what addi- 
tions would be indispensable to their comfort; 
what simple ornaments would be in keeping 
with the rustic stage on which she meant to play 
the part of prima donna. 

Next day a telegram arrived accepting the 
invitation, for both the lady and the lion. They 
would arrive that afternoon, as little preparation 
was needed for this impromptu journey, the nov- 
elty of which was its chief charm to these blase 
people. 

Saul wanted to get out the double sleigh and 
span, for he prided himself on his horses, and 
a fall of snow came most opportunely to beautify 
the landscape and add a new pleasure to Christ- 
mas festivities. 

But Sophie declared that the old yellow sleigh, 
with Punch, the farm-horse, must be used, as 
she wished everything to be in keeping; and 
Saul obeyed, thinking he had never seen any- 
thing prettier than his cousin when she appeared 
in his mother’s old-fashioned camlet cloak and 
blue silk pumpkin hood. He looked remarkably 


loo Proverb Stories 

well himself in his fur coat, with hair and beard 
brushed till they shone like spun gold, a fresh 
color in his cheek, and the sparkle of amusement 
in his eyes, while excitement gave his usually 
grave face the animation it needed to be hand- 
some. 

Away they jogged in the creaking old sleigh, 
leaving Ruth to make herself pretty, with a flut- 
tering heart, and Aunt Plumy to dish up a late 
dinner fit to tempt the most fastidious appetite. 

“ She has not come for us, and there is not 
even a stage to take us up. There must be some 
mistake,'' said Emily Herrick, as she looked 
about the shabby little station where they were 
set down. 

‘‘ That is the never-to-be-forgotten face of 
our fair friend, but the bonnet of her grand- 
mother, if my eyes do not deceive me," answered 
Randal, turning to survey the couple approach- 
ing in the rear. 

“ Sophie Vaughan, what do you mean by 
making such a guy of yourself?" exclaimed 
Emily, as she kissed the smiling face in the hood 
and stared at the quaint cloak. 

‘‘ I 'm dressed for my part, and I intend to 
keep it up. This is our host, my cousin, Saul 
Basset. Come to the sleigh at once, he will see 
to your luggage," said Sophie, painfully con- 
scious of the antiquity of her array as her eyes 
rested on Emily's pretty hat and mantle, and the 
masculine elegance of Randal's wraps. 


A Country Christmas loi 

They were hardly tucked in when Saul ap- 
peared with a valise in one hand and a large 
trunk on his shoulder, swinging both on to a 
wood-sled that stood near by as easily as if they 
had been hand-bags. 

“That is your hero, is it? Well, he looks it, 
calm and comely, taciturn and tall,’’ said Emily, 
in a tone of approbation. 

“ He should have been named Samson or 
Goliath; though I believe it was the small man 
who slung things about and turned out the hero 
in the end,” added Randal, surveying the per- 
formance with interest and a touch of envy, for 
much pen work had made his own hands as deli- 
cate as a woman’s. 

“ Saul does n’t live in a glass house, so stones 
won’t hurt him. Remember sarcasm is forbidden 
and sincerity the order of the day. You are 
country folks now, and it will do you good to 
try their simple, honest ways for a few days.” 

Sophie had no time to say more, for Saul came 
up and drove off with the brief remark that the 
baggage would “ be along right away.” 

Being hungry, cold and tired, the guests were 
rather silent during the short drive, but Aunt 
Plumy’s hospitable welcome, and the savory 
fumes of the dinner awaiting them, thawed the 
ice and won their hearts at once. 

“ Is n’t it nice? Are n’t you glad you came? ” 
asked Sophie, as she led her friends into the par- 
lor, which she had redeemed from its primness 


102 Proverb Stories 

by putting bright chintz curtains to the windows, 
hemlock boughs over the old portraits, a china 
bowl of flowers on the table, and a splendid fire 
on the wide hearth. 

** It is perfectly jolly, and this is the way I 
begin to enjoy myself,’' answered Emily, sitting 
down upon the home-made rug, whose red flan- 
nel roses bloomed in a blue list basket. 

‘‘ If I may add a little smoke to your glorious 
fire, it will be quite perfect. Won’t Samson join 
me?” asked Randal, waiting for permission, 
cigar-case in hand. 

He has no small vices, but you may indulge 
yours,” answered Sophie, from the depths of a 
grandmotherly chair. 

Emily glanced up at her friend as if she caught 
a new tone in her voice, then turned to the fire 
again with a wise little nod, as if confiding some 
secret to the reflection of herself in the bright 
brass andiron. 

‘‘ His Delilah does not take this form. I wait 
with interest to discover if he has one. What 
a daisy the sister is. Does she ever speak ? ” 
asked Randal, trying to lounge on the haircloth 
sofa, where he was slipping uncomfortably about. 

Oh yes, and sings like a bird. You shall 
hear her when she gets over her shyness. But 
no trifling, mind you, for it is a jealously 
guarded daisy and not to be picked by any idle 
hand,” said Sophie warningly, as she recalled 
Ruth’s blushes and Randal’s compliments at 
dinner.. 


A Country Christmas 103 

‘‘ I should expect to be annihilated by the big 
brother if I attempted any but the ‘ sincerest * 
admiration and respect. Have no fears on that 
score, but tell us what is to follow this superb 
dinner. An apple bee, spinning match, husking 
party, or primitive pastime of some sort, I have 
no doubt.” 

“ As you are new to our ways I am going to 
let you rest this evening. We will sit about the 
fire and tell stories. Aunt is a master hand at 
that, and Saul has reminiscences of the war that 
, are well worth hearing if we can only get him 
to tell them.” 

Ah, he was there, was he? ” 

‘‘ Yes, all through it, and is Major Basset, 
though he likes his plain name best. He fought 
splendidly and had several wounds, though only 
a mere boy when he earned his scars and bars. 
I ’m very proud of him for that,” and Sophie 
looked so as she glanced at the photograph of 
a stripling in uniform set in the place of honor 
on the high mantel-piece. 

‘‘We must stir him up and hear these martial 
memories. I want some new incidents, and shall 
book all I can get, if I may.” 

Here Randal was interrupted by Saul himself, 
who came in with an armful of wood for the fire. 

“ Anything more I can do for you, cousin ? ” 
he asked, surveying the scene with a rather wist- 
ful look. 

“ Only come and sit with us and talk over 
war times with Mr. Randal.” 


1 04 Proverb Stories 

“ When I Ve foddered the cattle and done my 
chores I ’d be pleased to. What regiment were 
you in ? asked Saul, looking down from his 
lofty height upon the slender gentleman, who 
answered briefly, — 

‘‘ In none. I was abroad at the time.” 

‘‘ Sick?” 

‘‘ No, busy with a novel.” 

“ Took four years to write it ? ” 

I was obliged to travel and study before I 
could finish it. These things take more time to 
work up than outsiders would believe.” 

‘‘ Seems to me our war was a finer story than 
any you could find in Europe, and the best way 
to study it would be to fight it out. If you want 
heroes and heroines you ’d have found plenty of 
’em there.” 

I have no doubt of it, and shall be glad to 
atone for my seeming neglect of them by hear- 
ing about your own exploits. Major.” 

Randal hoped to turn the conversation grace- 
fully, but Saul was not to be caught, and left 
the room, saying, with a gleam of fun in his 
eye, — 

“ I can’t stop now ; heroes can wait, pigs 
can’t.” 

The girls laughed at this sudden descent from 
the sublime to the ridiculous, and Randal joined 
them, feeling his condescension had not been un- 
observed. 

As if drawn by the merry sound Aunt Plumy 


A Country Christmas 105 

appeared, and being established in the rocking- 
chair fell to talking as easily as if she had known 
her guests for years. 

“Laugh away, young folks, that's better for 
digestion than any of the messes people use. 
Are you troubled with dyspepsy, dear? You 
did n't seem to take your vittles very hearty, so 
I mistrusted you was delicate," she said, looking 
at Emily, whose pale cheeks and weary eyes told 
the story of late hours and a gay life. 

“ I have n't eaten so much for years, I assure 
you, Mrs. Basset; but it was impossible to taste 
all your good things. I am not dyspeptic, thank 
you, but a little seedy and tired, for I 've been 
working rather hard lately." 

“ Be you a teacher ? or have you a ‘ perfes- 
sun,' as they call a trade nowadays ? " asked the 
old lady in a tone of kindly interest, which pre- 
vented a laugh at the idea of Emily's being any- 
thing but a beauty and a belle. The others kept 
their countenances with difficulty, and she an- 
swered demurely, — 

“ I have no trade as yet, but I dare say I 
should be happier if I had." 

“ Not a doubt on 't, my dear." 

“ What would you recommend, ma'am ? " 

“ I should say dressmakin' was rather in your 
line, ain't it? Your clothes is dreadful tasty, 
and do you credit if you made 'em yourself," 
and Aunt Plumy surveyed with feminine interest 
the simple elegance of the travelling dress which 
was the masterpiece of a French modiste. 


io6 Proverb Stories 

No, ma’am, I don’t make my own things, 
I ’m too lazy. It takes so much time and trouble 
to select them that I have only strength left to 
wear them.” 

“ Housekeepin’ used to be the favorite per- 
fessun in my day. It ain’t fashionable now, but 
it needs a sight of trainin’ to be perfect in all 
that ’s required, and I ’ve an idee it would be a 
sight healthier and usefuller than the paintin’ 
and music and fancy work young women do 
nowadays.” 

But every one wants some beauty in their 
lives, and each one has a different sphere to fill, 
if one can only find it.” 

’Pears to me there ’s no call for so much 
art when nater is full of beauty for them that 
can see and love it. As for ‘ spears ’ and so on, 
I ’ve a notion if each of us did up our own little 
chores smart and thorough we need n’t go wan- 
derin’ round to set the world to rights. That ’s 
the Lord’s job, and I presume to say He can do 
it without any advice of oum.” 

Something in the homely but true words 
seemed to rebuke the three listeners for wasted 
lives, and for a moment there was no sound but 
the crackle of the fire, the brisk click of the old 
lady’s knitting needles, and Ruth’s voice singing 
overhead as she made ready to join the party 
below. 

‘‘To judge by that sweet sound you have done 
one of your ‘ chores ’ very beautifully, Mrs. Bas- 


A Country Christmas 107 

set, and in spite of the follies of our day, suc- 
ceeded in keeping one girl healthy, happy and 
unspoiled,’’ said Emily, looking up into the 
peaceful old face with her own lovely one full 
of respect and envy. 

“ I do hope so, for she ’s my ewe lamb, the 
last of four dear little girls; all the rest are in 
the burying ground ’side of father. I don’t ex- 
pect to keep her long, and don’t ought to regret 
when I lose her, for Saul is the best of sons; 
but daughters is more to mothers somehow, and 
I always yearn over girls that is left without a 
broodin’ wing to keep ’em safe and warm in this 
world of tribulation.” 

Aunt Plumy laid her hand on Sophie’s head 
as she spoke, with such a motherly look that 
both girls drew nearer, and Randal resolved to 
put her in a book without delay. 

Presently Saul returned with little Ruth hang- 
ing on his arm and shyly nestling near him as 
he took the three-cornered leathern chair in the 
chimney nook, while she sat on a stool close by. 

Now the circle is complete and the picture 
perfect. Don’t light the lamps yet, please, but 
talk away and let me make a mental study of 
you. I seldom find so charming a scene to 
paint,” said Randal, beginning to enjoy himself 
immensely, with a true artist’s taste for novelty 
and effect. 

Tell us about your book, for we have been 
reading it as it comes out in the magazine, and 


io8 Proverb Stories 

are much exercised about how it ’s going to end,” 
began Saul, gallantly throwing himself into the 
breach, for a momentary embarrassment fell 
upon the women at the idea of sitting for their 
portraits before they were ready. 

Do you really read my poor serial up here, 
and do me the honor to like it? ” asked the nov- 
elist, both flattered and amused, for his work 
was of the aesthetic sort, microscopic studies of 
character, and careful pictures of modern life. 

Sakes alive, why should n’t we ? ” cried Aunt 
Plumy. “ We have some eddication, though we 
ain’t very genteel. We ’ve got a town libry, 
kep up by the women mostly, with fairs and tea 
parties and so on. We have all the magazines 
reg’lar, and Saul reads out the pieces while Ruth 
sews and I knit, my eyes bein’ poor. Our winter 
is long and evenins would be kinder lonesome if 
we did n’t have novils and newspapers to cheer 
’em up.” 

I am very glad I can help to beguile them 
for you. Now tell me what you honestly think 
of my work? Criticism is always valuable, and 
I should really like yours, Mrs. Basset,” said 
Randal, wondering what the good woman would 
make of the delicate analysis and worldly wis- 
dom on which he prided himself. 

Short work, as Aunt Plumy soon showed him, 
for she rather enjoyed freeing her mind at all 
times, and decidedly resented the insinuation 
that country folk could not appreciate light lit- 
erature as well as city people. 


A Country Christmas 109 

I ain’t no great of a jedge about anything 
but nat’ralness of books, and it really does seem 
as if some of your men and women was dreadful 
uncomfortable creaters. Tears to me it ain’t 
wise to be always pickin’ ourselves to pieces and 
pryin’ into things that ought to come gradual by 
way of experience and the visitations of Prov- 
idence. Flowers won’t blow worth a cent ef you 
pull ’em open. Better wait and see what they 
can do alone. I do relish the smart sayins, the 
odd ways of furrin parts, and the sarcastic slaps 
at folkses weak spots. But massy knows, we 
can’t live on spice-cake and Charlotte Ruche, 
and I do feel as if books was more sustainin’ 
ef they was full of every-day people and things, 
like good bread and butter. Them that goes to 
the heart and ain’t soon forgotten is the kind 
I hanker for. Mis Terry’s books now, and Mis 
Stowe’s, and Dickens’s Christmas pieces, — 
them is real sweet and cheerin’, to my mind.” 

As the blunt old lady paused it was evident 
she had produced a sensation, for Saul smiled 
at the fire, Ruth looked dismayed at this assault 
upon one of her idols, and the young ladies were 
both astonished and amused at the keenness of 
the new critic who dared express what they had 
often felt. Randal, however, was quite com- 
posed and laughed good-naturedly, though se- 
cretly feeling as if a pail of cold water had been 
poured over him. 

‘‘ Many thanks, madam ; you have discovered 


no Proverb Stories 

my weak point with surprising* accuracy. But 
you see I cannot help ‘picking folks to pieces/ 
as you have expressed it; that is my gift, and 
it has its attractions, as the sale of my books will 
testify. People like the ‘ spice-bread,’ and as 
that is the only sort my oven will bake, I must 
keep on in order to make my living.” 

“ So rumsellers say, but it ain’t a good trade 
to foller, and I ’d chop wood ’fore I ’d earn my 
livin’ harmin’ my feller man. ’Pears to me I ’d 
let my oven cool a spell, and hunt up some 
homely, happy folks to write about; folks that 
don’t borrer trouble and go lookin’ for holes in 
their neighbors’ coats, but take their lives brave 
and cheerful; and rememberin’ we are all hu- 
man, have pity on the weak, and try to be as full 
of mercy, patience and lovin’ kindness as Him 
who made us. That sort of a book would do 
a heap of good; be real warmin’ and strength- 
enin’, and make them that read it love the man 
that wrote it, and remember him when he was 
dead and gone.” 

“ I wish I could ! ” and Randal meant what 
he said, for he was as tired of his own style as 
a watch-maker might be of the magnifying glass 
through which he strains his eyes all day. He 
knew that the heart was left out of his work, 
and that both mind and soul were growing mor- 
bid with dwelling on the faulty, absurd and 
metaphysical phases of life and character. He 
often threw down his pen and vowed he would 


A Country Christmas 1 1 1 

write no more; but he loved ease and the books 
brought money readily; he was accustomed to 
the stimulant of praise and missed it as the toper 
misses his wine, so that which had once been a 
pleasure to himself and others was fast becom- 
ing a burden and a disappointment. 

The brief pause which followed his involun- 
tary betrayal of discontent was broken by Ruth, 
who exclaimed, with a girlish enthusiasm that 
overpowered girlish bashfulness, — 

I think all the novels are splendid! I hope 
you will write hundreds more, and I shall live 
to read 'em.” 

Bravo, my gentle champion ! I promise that 
I will write one more at least, and have a hero- 
ine in it whom your mother will both admire and 
love,” answered Randal, surprised to find how 
grateful he was for the girl's approval, and how 
rapidly his trained fancy began to paint the back- 
ground on which he hoped to copy this fresh, 
human daisy. 

Abashed by her involuntary outburst, Ruth 
tried to efface herself behind Saul's broad shoul- 
der, and he brought the conversation back to its 
starting-point by saying in a tone of the most 
sincere interest, — 

“ Speaking of the serial, I am very anxious 
to know how your hero comes out. He is a 
fine fellow, and I can't decide whether he is going 
to spoil his life marrying that silly woman, or 
do something grand and generous, and not be 
made a fool of.'* 


1 1 2 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ Upon my soul, I don’t know myself. It is 
very hard to find new finales. Can’t you suggest 
something, Major? then I shall not be obliged 
to leave my story without an end, as people com- 
plain I am rather fond of doing.” 

‘‘ Well, no, I don’t think I ’ve anything to 
offer. Seems to me it isn’t the sensational ex- 
ploits that show the hero best, but some great 
sacrifice quietly made by a common sort of man 
who is noble without knowing it. I saw a good 
many such during the war, and often wish I 
could write them down, for it is surprising how 
much courage, goodness and real piety is stowed 
away in common folks ready to show when the 
right time comes.” 

Tell us one of them, and I ’ll bless you for 
a hint. No one knows the anguish of an author’s 
spirit when he can’t ring down the curtain on 
an effective tableau,” said Randal, with a glance 
at his friends to ask their aid in eliciting an anec- 
dote or reminiscence. 

Tell about the splendid fellow who held the 
bridge, like Horatius, till help came up. That 
was a thrilling story, I assure you,” answered 
Sophie, with an inviting smile. 

But Saul would not be his own hero, and said 
briefly : 

“ Any man can be brave when the battle-fever 
is on him, and it only takes a little physical 
courage to dash ahead.” He paused a moment, 
with his eyes on the snowy landscape without, 


A Country Christmas 1 1 3 

where twilight was deepening; then, as if con- 
strained by the memory that winter scene evoked, 
he slowly continued, — 

One of the bravest things I ever knew was 
done by a poor fellow who has been a hero to 
me ever since, though I only met him that night. 
It was after one of the big battles of that last 
winter, and I was knocked over with a broken 
leg and two or three bullets here and there. 
Night was coming on, snow falling, and a sharp 
wind blew over the field where a lot of us lay, 
dead and alive, waiting for the ambulance to 
come and pick us up. There was skirmishing 
going on not far off, and our prospects were 
rather poor between frost and fire. I wa^ calcu- 
lating how I 'd manage, when I found tv/o poor 
chaps close by who were worse off, so I braced 
up and did what I could for them. One had an 
arm blown away, and kept up a dreadful groan- 
ing. The other was shot bad, and bleeding to 
death for want of help, but never complained. 
He was nearest, and I liked his pluck, for he 
spoke cheerful and made me ashamed to growl. 
Such times make dreadful brutes of men if they 
haven’t something to hold on to, and all three 
of us were most wild with pain and cold and 
hunger, for we ’d fought all day fasting, when 
we heard a rumble in the road below, and saw 
lanterns bobbing round. That meant life to us, 
and we all tried to holler; two of us were pretty 
faint, but I managed a good yell, and they heard 
it. 


114 Proverb Stories 

‘ Room for one more. Hard luck, old boys, 
but we are full and must save the worst wounded 
first. Take a drink, and hold on till we come 
back,* says one of them with the stretcher. 

* Here ’s the one to go,* I says, pointin* out 
my man, for I saw by the light that he was hard 
hit. 

‘‘ ‘ No, that one. He *s got more chances than 
I, or this one ; he *s young and got a mother ; 
I *11 wait,* said the good feller, touchin* my arm, 
for he ’d heard me mutterin* to myself about this 
dear old lady. We always want mother when 
we are down, you know.** 

Saul’s eyes turned to the beloved face with a 
glance of tenderest affection, and Aunt Plumy 
answered with a dismal groan at the recollection 
of his need that night, and her absence. 

Well, to be short, the groaning chap was 
taken, and my man left. I was mad, but there 
was no time for talk, and the selfish one went 
off and left that poor feller to run his one chance. 
I had my rifle, and guessed I could hobble up to 
use it if need be; so we settled back to wait with- 
out much hope of help, everything being in a 
muddle. And wait we did till morning, for that 
ambulance did not come back till next day, when 
most of us were past needing it. 

“ I *11 never forget that night. I dream it all 
over again as plain as if it was real. Snow, cold, 
darkness, hunger, thirst, pain, and all round us 
cries and cursing growing less and less, till at 


A Country Christmas 115 

last only the wind went moaning over that 
meadow. It was awful! so lonesome, helpless, 
and seemingly God-forsaken. Hour after hour 
we lay there side by side under one coat, waiting 
to be saved or die, for the wind grew strong and 
we grew weak.’' 

Saul drew a long breath, and held his hands 
to the fire as if he felt again the sharp suffering 
of that night. 

‘‘And the man?” asked Emily, softly, as if 
reluctant to break the silence. 

“ He wa^ a man ! In times like that men talk 
like brothers and show what they are. Lying 
there, slowly freezing, Joe Cummings told me 
about his wife and babies, his old folks waiting 
for him, all depending on him, yet all ready to 
give him up when he was needed. A plain man, 
but honest and true, and loving as a woman; I 
soon saw that as he went on talking, half to me 
and half to himself, for sometimes he wandered 
a little toward the end. I 've read books, heard 
sermons, and seen good folks, but nothing ever 
came so close or did me so much good as seeing 
this man die. He had one chance and gave it 
cheerfully. He longed for those he loved, and 
let ’em go with a good-by they could n’t hear. 
He suffered all the pains we most shrink from 
without a murmur, and kept my heart warm 
while his own was growing cold. It ’s no use 
trying to tell that part of it ; but I heard prayers 
that night that meant something, and I saw how 


Proverb Stories 


1 16 

faith could hold a soul up when everything was 
gone but God/’ 

Saul stopped there with a sudden huskiness 
in his deep voice, and when he went on it was in 
the tone of one who speaks of a dear friend. 

‘‘ Joe grew still by and by, and I thought he 
was asleep, for I felt his breath when I tucked 
him up, and his hand held on to mine. The cold 
sort of numbed me, and I dropped off, too weak 
and stupid to think or feel. I never should have 
waked up if it hadn’t been for Joe. When I 
came to, it was morning, and I thought I was 
dead, for all I could see was that great field of 
white mounds, like graves, and a splendid sky 
above. Then I looked for Joe, remembering; 
but he had put my coat back over me, and lay 
stiff and still under the snow that covered him 
like a shroud, all except his face. A bit of my 
cape had blown over it, and when I took it off 
and the sun shone on his dead face, I declare to 
you it was so full of heavenly peace I felt as if 
that common man had been glorified by God’s 
light, and rewarded by God’s ‘ Well done.’ 
That ’s all.” 

No one spoke for a moment, while the women 
wiped their eyes, and Saul dropped his as if to 
hide something softer than tears. 

“ It was very noble, very touching. And 
you? how did you get off at last?” asked Ran- 
dal, with real admiration and respect in his usu- 
ally languid face. 


A Country Christmas 1 1 7 

Crawled off,” answered Saul, relapsing into 
his former brevity of speech. 

“ Why not before, and save yourself all that 
misery? ” 

‘‘ Could n’t leave Joe.” 

‘‘Ah, I see; there were two heroes that 
night.” 

“ Dozens, I Ve no doubt. Those were times 
that made heroes of men, and women, too.” 

“ Tell us more ; ” begged Emily, looking up 
with an expression none of her admirers ever 
brought to her face by their softest compliments 
or wiliest gossip. 

“ I ’ve done my part. It ’s Mr. Randal’s turn 
now; ” and Saul drew himself out of the ruddy 
circle of firelight, as if ashamed of the prom- 
inent part he was playing. 

Sophie and her friend had often heard Ran- 
dal talk, for he was an accomplished raconteur, 
but that night he exerted himself, and was un- 
usually brilliant and entertaining, as if upon his 
mettle. The Bassets were charmed. They sat 
late and were very merry, for Aunt Plumy got 
up a little supper for them, and her cider was 
as exhilarating as champagne. When they 
parted for the night and Sophie kissed her aunt, 
Emily did the same, saying heartily, — 

“ It seems as if I ’d known you all my life, 
and this is certainly the most enchanting old 
place that ever was.” 

“ Glad you like it, dear. But it ain’t all fun. 


1 1 8 Proverb Stories 

as you ’ll find out to-morrow when you go to 
work, for Sophie says you must,” answered Mrs. 
Basset, as her guests trooped away, rashly prom- 
ising to like everything. 

They found it difficult to keep their word when 
they were called at half past six next morning. 
Their rooms were warm, however, and they 
managed to scramble down in time for breakfast, 
guided by the fragrance of coffee and Aunt 
Plumy’s shrill voice singing the good old 
hymn — 

“ Lord, in the morning Thou shalt hear 
My voice ascending high.” 

An open fire blazed on the hearth, for the 
cooking was done in the lean-to, and the spa- 
cious, sunny kitchen was kept in all its old-fash- 
ioned perfection, with the wooden settle in a 
warm nook, the tall clock behind the door, cop- 
per and pewter utensils shining on the dresser, 
old china in the corner closet and a little spin- 
ning wheel rescued from the garret by Sophie 
to adorn the deep window, full of scarlet gera- 
niums, Christmas roses, and white chrysanthe- 
mums. 

The young lady, in a checked apron and mob- 
cap, greeted her friends with a dish of buck- 
wheats in one hand, and a pair of cheeks that 
proved she had been learning to fry these delec- 
table cakes. 

You do ‘ keep it up ’ in earnest, upon my 


A Country Christmas 119 

word ; and very becoming it is, dear. But won’t 
you ruin your complexion and roughen your 
hands if you do so much of this new fancy- 
work ? ” asked Emily, much amazed at this novel 
freak. 

“ I like it, and really believe I Ve found my 
proper sphere at last. Domestic life seems so 
pleasant to me that I feel as if I ’d better keep 
it up for the rest of my life,” answered Sophie, 
making a pretty picture of herself as she cut 
great slices of brown bread, with the early sun- 
shine touching her happy face. 

‘‘ The charming Miss Vaughan in the role of 
a farmer’s wife. I find it difficult to imagine, 
and shrink from the thought of the wide-spread 
dismay such a fate will produce among her 
adorers,” added Randal, as he basked in the glow 
of the hospitable fire. 

‘‘ She might do worse ; but come to break- 
fast and do honor to my handiwork,” said So- 
phie, thinking of her worn-out millionnaire, and 
rather nettled by the satiric smile on Randal’s 
lips. 

What an appetite early rising gives one. I 
feel equal to almost anything, so let me help 
wash cups,” said Emily, with unusual energy, 
when the hearty meal was over and Sophie 
began to pick up the dishes as if it was her usual 
work. 

Ruth went to the window to water the flow- 
ers, and Randal followed to make himself agree- 


120 Proverb Stories 

able, remembering her defence of him last night 
He was used to admiration from feminine eyes, 
and flattery from soft lips, but found something 
new and charming in the innocent delight which 
showed itself at his approach in blushes more 
eloquent than words, and shy glances from eyes 
full of hero-worship. 

I hope you are going to spare me a posy for 
to-morrow night, since I can be fine in no other 
way to do honor to the dance Miss Sophie pro- 
poses for us,'’ he said, leaning in the bay window 
to look down on the little girl, with the devoted 
air he usually wore for pretty women. 

‘‘ Anything you like ! I should be so glad 
to have you wear my flowers. There will be 
enough for all, and I ’ve nothing else to give 
to people who have made me as happy as cousin 
Sophie and you,” answered Ruth, half drowning 
her great calla as she spoke with grateful 
warmth. 

‘‘ You must make her happy by accepting the 
invitation to go home with her which I heard 
given last night. A peep at the world would 
do you good, and be a pleasant change, I think.” 

“ Oh, very pleasant ! but would it do me 
good ? ” and Ruth looked up with sudden serious- 
ness in her blue eyes, as a child questions an 
elder, eager, yet wistful. 

‘‘ Why not ? ” asked Randal, wondering at 
the hesitation. 

‘‘ I might grow discontented with things here 


A Country Christmas i2i 

if I saw splendid houses and fine people. I am 
very happy now, and it would break my heart 
to lose that happiness, or ever learn to be 
ashamed of home,” 

“ But don’t you long for more pleasure, new 
scenes and other friends than these ? ” asked the 
man, touched by the little creature’s loyalty to 
the things she knew and loved. 

“ Very often, but mother says when I ’m 
ready they will come, so I wait and try not to 
be impatient.” But Ruth’s eyes looked out over 
the green leaves as if the longing was very 
strong within her to see more of the unknown 
world lying beyond the mountains that hemmed 
her in. 

“ It is natural for birds to hop out of the nest, 
so I shall expect to see you over there before 
long, and ask you how you enjoy your first 
flight,” said Randal, in a paternal tone that had 
a curious effect on Ruth. 

To his surprise, she laughed, then blushed like 
one of her own roses, and answered with a de- 
mure dignity that was very pretty to see. 

‘‘ I intend to hop soon, but it won’t be a very 
long flight or very far from mother. She can’t 
spare me, and nobody in the world can fill her 
place to me.” 

** Bless the child, does she think I ’m going 
to make love to her,” thought Randal, much 
amused, but quite mistaken. Wiser women had 
thought so when he assumed the caressing air 


122 


Proverb Stories 


with which he beguiled them into the little reve- 
lations of character he liked to use, as the south 
wind makes flowers open their hearts to give up 
their odor, then leaves them to carry it elsewhere, 
the more welcome for the stolen sweetness. 

“ Perhaps you are right. The maternal wing 
is a safe shelter for confiding little souls like 
you. Miss Ruth. You will be as comfortable 
here as your flowers in this sunny window,’’ he 
said, carelessly pinching geranium leaves, and 
ruffling the roses till the pink petals of the larg- 
est fluttered to the floor. 

As if she instinctively felt and resented some- 
thing in the man which his act symbolized, the 
girl answered quietly, as she went on with her 
work, ‘‘ Yes, if the frost does not touch me, or 
careless people spoil me too soon.” 

Before Randal could reply Aunt Plumy ap- 
proached like a maternal hen who sees her 
chicken in danger. 

‘‘ Saul is goin’ to haul wood after he ’s done 
his chores, mebbe you ’d like to go along? The 
view is good, the roads well broke, and the day 
uncommon fine.” 

“ Thanks ; it will be delightful, I dare say,” 
politely responded the lion, with a secret shud- 
der at the idea of a rural promenade at 8 a. m. 
in the winter. 

‘‘ Come on, then ; we ’ll feed the stock, and 
then I ’ll show you how to yoke oxen,” said Saul, 
with a twinkle in his eye as he led the way, when 


A Country Chrfstmas 123 

his new aide had muffled himself up as if for a 
polar voyage. 

Now, that’s too bad of Saul! He did it 
on purpose, just to please you, Sophie,” cried 
Ruth presently, and the girls ran to the window 
to behold Randal bravely following his host with 
a pail of pigs’ food in each hand, and an expres- 
sion of resigned disgust upon his aristocratic 
face. 

To what base uses may we come,” quoted 
Emily, as they all nodded and smiled upon the 
victim as he looked back from the barn-yard, 
where he was clamorously welcomed by his new 
charges. 

It is rather a shock at first, but it will do 
him good, and Saul won’t be too hard upon him, 
I ’m sure,” said Sophie, going back to her work, 
while Ruth turned her best buds to the sun that 
they might be ready for a peace-offering to- 
morrow. 

There was a merry clatter in the big kitchen 
for an hour; then Aunt Plumy and her daugh- 
ter shut themselves up in the pantry to perform 
some culinary rites, and the young ladies went 
to inspect certain antique costumes laid forth in 
Sophie’s room. 

‘‘ You see, Em, I thought it would be appro- 
priate to the house and season to have an old- 
fashioned dance. Aunt has quantities of ancient 
finery stowed away, for great-grandfather Bas- 
set was a fine old gentleman and his family lived 


Proverb Stories 


1 24 

in state. Take your choice of the crimson, blue 
or silver-gray damask. Ruth is to wear the 
worked muslin and quilted white satin skirt, with 
that coquettish hat.” 

“ Being dark, I 'll take the red and trim it up 
with this fine lace. You must wear the blue and 
primrose, with the distracting high-heeled shoes. 
Have you any suits for the men ? ” asked Emily, 
throwing herself at once into the all-absorbing 
matter of costume. 

A claret velvet coat and vest, silk stockings, 
cocked hat and snuff-box for Randal. Nothing 
large enough for Saul, so he must wear his uni- 
form. Won’t Aunt Plumy be superb in this 
plum-colored satin and immense cap ? ” 

A delightful morning was spent in adapting 
the faded finery of the past to the blooming 
beauty of the present, and time and tongues 
flew till the toot of a horn called them down to 
dinner. 

The girls were amazed to see Randal come 
whistling up the road with his trousers tucked 
into his boots, blue mittens on his hands, and an 
unusual amount of energy in his whole figure, 
as he drove the oxen, while Saul laughed at his 
vain attempts to guide the bewildered beasts. 

“ It ’s immense 1 The view from the hill is 
well worth seeing, for the snow glorifies the 
landscape and reminds one of Switzerland. I ’m 
going to make a sketch of it this afternoon ; bet- 
ter come and enjoy the delicious freshness, 
young ladies.” 


A Country Christmas 125 

Randal was eating with such an appetite that 
he did not see the glances the girls exchanged as 
they promised to go. 

“ Bring home some more winter-green, I want 
things to be real nice, and we haven’t enough 
for the kitchen,” said Ruth, dimpling with girl- 
ish delight as she imagined herself dancing 
under the green garlands in her grandmother’s 
wedding gown. 

It was very lovely on the hill, for far as the 
eye could reach lay the wintry landscape spar- 
kling with the brief beauty of sunshine on virgin 
snow. Pines sighed overhead, hardy birds flitted 
to and fro, and in all the trodden spots rose the 
little spires of evergreen ready for its Christmas 
duty. Deeper in the wood sounded the measured 
ring of axes, the crash of falling trees, while 
the red shirts of the men added color to the 
scene, and a fresh wind brought the aromatic 
breath of newly cloven hemlock and pine. 

‘‘ How beautiful it is ! I never knew before 
what winter woods were like. Did you, So- 
phie? ” asked Emily, sitting on a stump to enjoy 
the novel pleasure at her ease. 

“ I ’ve found out lately ; Saul lets me come 
as often as I like, and this fine air seems to make 
a new creature of me,” answered Sophie, look- 
ing about her with sparkling eyes, as if this was 
a kingdom where she reigned supreme. 

Something is making a new creature of you, 
that is very evident. I haven’t yet discovered 


126 Proverb Stories 

whether it is the air or some magic herb among 
that green stuff you are gathering so dili- 
gently ; ” and Emily laughed to see the color 
deepen beautifully in her friend’s half-averted 
face. 

‘‘ Scarlet is the only wear just now, I find. 
If we are lost like babes in the woods there are 
plenty of redbreasts to cover us with leaves,” 
and Randal joined Emily’s laugh, with a glance 
at Saul, who had just pulled his coat off. 

You wanted to see this tree go down, so 
stand from under and I ’ll show you how it ’s 
done,” said the farmer, taking up his axe, not 
unwilling to gratify his guests and display his 
manly accomplishments at the same time. 

It was a fine sight, the stalwart man swinging 
his axe with magnificent strength and skill, each 
blow sending a thrill through the stately tree, 
till its heart was reached and it tottered to its 
fall. Never pausing for breath Saul shook his 
yellow mane out of his eyes, and hewed away, 
while the drops stood on his forehead and his 
arm ached, as bent on distinguishing himself as 
if he had been a knight tilting against his rival 
for his lady’s favor. 

‘‘ I don’t know which to admire most, the man 
or his muscle. One does n’t often see such vigor, 
size and comeliness in these degenerate days,” 
said Randal, mentally booking the fine figure in 
the red shirt. 

** I think we have discovered a rough diamond. 


A Country Christmas 127 

I only wonder if Sophie is going to try and pol- 
ish it,” answered Emily, glancing at her friend, 
who stood a little apart, watching the rise and 
fall of the axe as intently as if her fate depended 
on it. 

Down rushed the tree at last, and, leaving 
them to examine a crow’s nest in its branches, 
Saul went off to his men, as if he found the 
praises of his prowess rather too much for him. 

Randal fell to sketching, the girls to their 
garland-making, and for a little while the sunny 
woodland nook was full of lively chat and pleas- 
ant laughter, for the air exhilarated them all like 
wine. Suddenly a man came running from the 
wood, pale and anxious, saying, as he hastened 
by for help, “ Blasted tree fell on him ! Bleed 
to death before the doctor comes ! ” 

“ Who ? who ? ” cried the startled trio. 

But the man ran on, with some breathless re- 
ply, in which only a name was audible — ‘‘ Bas- 
set.” 

The deuce it is ! ” and Randal dropped his 
pencil, while the girls sprang up in dismay. 
Then, with one impulse, they hastened to the 
distant group, half visible behind the fallen trees 
and corded wood. 

Sophie was there first, and forcing her way 
through the little crowd of men, saw a red- 
shirted figure on the ground, crushed and bleed- 
ing, and threw herself down beside it with a cry 
that pierced the hearts of those who heard it. 


128 Proverb Stories 

In the act she saw it was not Saul, and covered 
her bewildered face as if to hide its joy. A 
strong arm lifted her, and the familiar voice said 
cheeringly, — 

“ I 'm all right, dear. Poor Bruce is hurt, 
but we ’ve sent for help. Better go right home 
and forget all about it.” 

*‘Yes, I will, if I can do nothing;” and So- 
phie meekly returned to her friends who stood 
outside the circle over which Saul's head tow- 
ered, assuring them of his safety. 

Hoping they had not seen her agitation, she 
led Emily away, leaving Randal to give what 
aid he could and bring them news of the poor 
wood-chopper's state. 

Aunt Plumy produced the camphire ” the 
moment she saw Sophie's pale face, and made 
her lie down, while the brave old lady trudged 
briskly off with bandages and brandy to the scene 
of action. On her return she brought comfort- 
able news of the man, so the little flurry blew 
over and was forgotten by all but Sophie, who 
remained pale and quiet all the evening, tying 
evergreen as if her life depended on it. 

“ A good night's sleep will set her up. She 
ain't used to such things, dear child, and needs 
cossetin',” said Aunt Plumy, purring over her 
until she was in her bed, with a hot stone at her 
feet and. a bowl of herb tea to quiet her nerves. 

An hour later when Emily went up, she 
peeped in to see if Sophie was sleeping nicely. 


A Country Christmas 129 

and was surprised to find the invalid wrapped 
in a dressing-gown writing busily. 

Last will and testament, or sudden inspira- 
tion, dear? How are you? faint or feverish, 
delirious or in the dumps! Saul looks so anx- 
ious, and Mrs. Basset hushes us all up so, I came 
to bed, leaving Randal to entertain Ruth.” 

As she spoke Emily saw the papers disappear 
in a portfolio, and Sophie rose with a yawn. 

“ I was writing letters, but I ’m sleepy now. 
Quite over my foolish fright, thank you. Go 
and get your beauty sleep that you may dazzle 
the natives to-morrow.” 

‘‘So glad, good night;” and Emily went 
away, saying to herself, “ Something is going 
on, and I must find out what it is before I leave. 
Sophie can’t blind me” 

But Sophie did all the next day, being delight- 
fully gay at the dinner, and devoting herself to 
the young minister who was invited to meet the 
distinguished novelist, and evidently being afraid 
of him, gladly basked in the smiles of his charm- 
ing neighbor. A dashing sleigh-ride occupied 
the afternoon, and then great was the fun and 
excitement over the costumes. 

Aunt Plumy laughed till the tears rolled down 
her cheeks as the girls compressed her into the 
plum-colored gown with its short waist, leg-of- 
mutton sleeves, and narrow skirt. But a worked 
scarf hid all deficiencies, and the towering cap 
struck awe into the soul of the most frivolous 
observer. 


Proverb Stories 


130 

‘‘ Keep an eye on me, girls, for I shall certainly 
split somewheres or lose my head-piece off when 
I ’m trottin’ round. What would my blessed 
mother say if she could see me rigged out in her 
best things? and with a smile and a sigh the old 
lady departed to look after “ the boys,^’ and see 
that the supper was all right. 

Three prettier damsels never tripped down 
the wide staircase than the brilliant brunette in 
crimson brocade, the pensive blonde in blue, or 
the rosy little bride in old muslin and white satin. 

A gallant court gentleman met them in the 
hall with a superb bow, and escorted them to the 
parlor, where Grandma Basset’s ghost was dis- 
covered dancing with a modern major in full 
uniform. 

Mutual admiration and many compliments fol- 
lowed, till other ancient ladies and gentlemen 
arrived in all manner of queer costumes, and the 
old house seemed to wake from its humdrum 
quietude to sudden music and merriment, as if 
a past generation had returned to keep its Christ- 
mas there. 

The village fiddler soon struck up the good 
old tunes, and then the strangers saw dancing 
that filled them with mingled mirth and envy ; 
it was so droll, yet so hearty. The young men, 
unusually awkward in their grandfathers’ knee- 
breeches, flapping vests, and swallow-tail coats, 
footed it bravely with the buxom girls who were 
the prettier for their quaintness, and danced with 



The village fiddler soon struck up the good old tunes.” Page 130. 


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A Country Christmas 131 

such vigor that their high combs stood awry, 
their furbelows waved wildly, and their cheeks 
were as red as their breast-knots, or hose. 

It was impossible to stand still, and one after 
the other the city folk yielded to the spell, Ran- 
dal leading off with Ruth, Sophie swept away 
by Saul, and Emily being taken possession of 
by a young giant of eighteen, who spun her 
around with a boyish impetuosity that took her 
breath away. Even Aunt Plumy was discovered 
jigging it alone in the pantry, as if the music 
was too much for her, and the plates and glasses 
jingled gaily on the shelves in time to Money 
Musk and Fishers’ Hornpipe. 

A pause came at last, however, and fans flut- 
tered, heated brows were wiped, jokes were 
made, lovers exchanged confidences, and every 
nook and corner held a man and maid carrying 
on the sweet game which is never out of fashion. 
There was a glitter of gold lace in the back 
entry, and a train of blue and primrose shone in 
the dim light. There was a richer crimson than 
that of the geraniums in the deep window, and 
a dainty shoe tapped the bare floor impatiently 
as the brilliant black eyes looked everywhere for 
the court gentleman, while their owner listened 
to the gruff prattle of an enamored boy. But 
in the upper hall walked a little white ghost as 
if waiting for some shadowy companion, and 
when a dark form appeared ran to take its arm, 
saying, in a tone of soft satisfaction, — 


Proverb Stories 


132 

“ I was so afraid you would n’t come ! ” 

“ Why did you leave me, Ruth ? ” answered a 
manly voice in a tone of surprise, though the 
small hand slipping from the velvet coat-sleeve 
was replaced as if it was pleasant to feel it there. 

A pause, and then the other voice answered 
demurely, — 

“ Because I was afraid my head would be 
turned by the fine things you were saying.” 

‘‘ It is impossible to help saying what one feels 
to such an artless little creature as you are. It 
does me good to admire anything so fresh and 
sweet, and won’t harm you.” 

“It might if — ” 

“If what, my daisy?” 

“ I believed it,” and a laugh seemed to finish 
the broken sentence better than the words. 

“ You may, Ruth, for I do sincerely admire 
the most genuine girl I have seen for a long 
time. And walking here with you in your bridal 
white I was just asking myself if I should not 
be a happier man with a home of my own and 
a little wife hanging on my arm than drifting 
about the world as I do now with only myself 
to care for.” 

“ I know you would ! ” and Ruth spoke so 
earnestly that Randal was both touched and 
startled, fearing he had ventured too far in a 
mood of unwonted sentiment, born of the ro- 
mance of the hour and the sweet frankness of 
his companion. 


A Country Christmas 133 

‘‘ Then you don't think it would be rash for 
some sweet woman to take me in hand and make 
me happy, since fame is a failure ? " 

“ Oh, no; it would be easy work if she loved 
you. I know some one — if I only dared to tell 
her name." 

“ Upon my soul, this is cool," and Randal 
looked down, wondering if the audacious lady 
on his arm could be shy Ruth. 

If he had seen the malicious merriment in her 
eyes he would have been more humiliated still, 
but they were modestly averted, and the face 
under the little hat was full of a soft agitation 
rather dangerous even to a man of the world. 

“ She is a captivating little creature, but it 
is too soon for anything but a mild flirtation. 
I must delay further innocent revelations or I 
shall do something rash." 

While making this excellent resolution Randal 
had been pressing the hand upon his arm and 
gently pacing down the dimly lighted hall with 
the sound of music in his ears, Ruth’s sweetest 
roses in his button-hole, and a loving little girl 
beside him, as he thought. 

You shall tell me by and by when we are in 
town. I am sure you will come, and meanwhile 
don’t forget me." 

“ I am going in the spring, but I shall not be 
with Sophie," answered Ruth, in a whisper. 

‘‘ With whom then ? I shall long to see you." 

With my husband. I am to be married in 
May." 


134 Proverb Stories 

The deuce you are ! ” escaped Randal, as he 
stopped short to stare at his companion, sure she 
was not in earnest. 

But she was, for as he looked the sound of 
steps coming up the back stairs made her whole 
face flush and brighten with the unmistakable 
glow of happy love, and she completed Randal’s 
astonishment by running into the arms of the 
young minister, saying with an irrepressible 
laugh, “ Oh, John, why did n’t you come be- 
fore ? ” 

The court gentleman was all right in a mo- 
ment, and the coolest of the three as he offered 
his congratulations and gracefully retired, leav- 
ing the lovers to enjoy the tryst he had delayed. 
But as he went down stairs his brows were knit, 
and he slapped the broad railing smartly with 
his cocked hat as if some irritation must find 
vent in a more energetic way than merely say- 
ing, ‘"Confound the little baggage!” under his 
breath. 

Such an amazing supper came from Aunt 
Plumy’s big pantry that the city guests could 
not eat for laughing at the queer dishes circu- 
lating through the rooms, and copiously par- 
taken of by the hearty young folks. 

Doughnuts and cheese, pie and pickles, cider 
and tea, baked beans and custards, cake and cold 
turkey, bread and butter, plum pudding and 
French bonbons, Sophie’s contribution. 

“ May I offer you the native delicacies, and 


A Country Christmas 135 

share your plate? Both are very good, but the 
china has run short, and after such vigorous ex- 
ercise as you have had you must need refresh- 
ment. I ’m sure I do ! said Randal, bowing 
before Emily with a great blue platter laden 
with two doughnuts, two wedges of pumpkin 
pie and two spoons. 

The smile with which she welcomed him, the 
alacrity with which she made room beside her 
and seemed to enjoy the supper he brought, was 
so soothing to his ruffled spirit that he soon be- 
gan to feel that there is no friend like an old 
friend, that it would not be difficult to name a 
sweet woman who would take him in hand and 
would make him happy if he cared to ask her, 
and he began to think he would by and by, it was 
so pleasant to sit in that green corner with waves 
of crimson brocade flowing over his feet, and a 
fine face softening beautifully under his eyes. 

The supper was not romantic, but the situa- 
tion was, and Emily found that pie ambrosial 
food eaten with the man she loved, whose eyes 
talked more eloquently than the tongue just then 
busy with a doughnut. Ruth kept away, but 
glanced at them as she served her company, and 
her own happy experience helped her to see that 
all was going well in that quarter. Saul and 
Sophie emerged from the back entry with shining 
countenances, but carefully avoided each other 
for the rest of the evening. No one observed 
this but Aunt Plumy from the recesses of her 


136 Proverb Stories 

pantry, and she folded her hands as if well con- 
tent, as she murmured fervently over a pan full 
of crullers, Bless the dears ! Now I can die 
happy/ ^ 

Every one thought Sophie’s old-fashioned 
dress immensely becoming, and several of his 
former men said to Saul with blunt admiration, 
“ Major, you look to-night as you used to after 
we ’d gained a big battle.” 

I feel as if I had,” answered the splendid 
Major, with eyes much brighter than his buttons, 
and a heart under them infinitely prouder than 
when he was promoted on the field of honor, for 
his Waterloo was won. 

There was more dancing, followed by games, 
in which Aunt Plumy shone pre-eminent, for the 
supper was off her mind and she could enjoy 
herself. There were shouts of merriment as the 
blithe old lady twirled the platter, hunted the 
squirrel, and went to Jerusalem like a girl of 
sixteen; her cap in a ruinous condition, and 
every seam of the purple dress straining like sails 
in a gale. It was great fun, but at midnight it 
came to an end, and the young folks, still bub- 
bling over with innocent jollity, went jingling 
away along the snowy hills, unanimously pro- 
nouncing Mrs. Basset’s party the best of the sea- 
son. 

‘‘Never had such a good time in my life!” 
exclaimed Sophie, as the family stood together 
in the kitchen where the candles among the 


A Country Christmas 137 

wreaths were going out, and the floor was strewn 
with wrecks of past joy. 

‘‘I’m proper glad, dear. Now you all go to 
bed and lay as late as you like to-morrow. I ’m 
so kinder worked up I could n’t sleep, so Saul 
and me will put things to rights without a mite 
of noise to disturb you ; ” and Aunt Plumy sent 
them off with a smile that was a benediction, 
Sophie thought. 

“ The dear old soul speaks as if midnight was 
an unheard-of hour for Christians to be up. 
What would she say if she knew how we seldom 
go to bed till dawn in the ball season ? I ’m so 
wide awake I ’ve half a mind to pack a little. 
Randal must go at two, he says, and we shall 
want his escort,” said Emily, as the girls laid 
away their brocades in the press in Sophie’s room. 

“ I ’m not going. Aunt can’t spare me, and 
there is nothing to go for yet,” answered Sophie, 
beginning to take the white chrysanthemums out 
of her pretty hair. 

“ My dear child, you will die of ennui up here. 
Very nice for a week or so, but frightful for a 
winter. We are going to be very gay, and can- 
not get on without you,” cried Emily dismayed 
at the suggestion. 

“ You will have to, for I ’m not coming. I 
am very happy here, and so tired of the frivolous 
life I lead in town, that I have decided to try 
a better one,” and Sophie’s mirror reflected a 
face full of the sweetest content. 


138 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ Have you lost your mind ? experienced re- 
ligion? or any other dreadful thing? You al- 
ways were odd, but this last freak is the strang- 
est of all. What will your guardian say, and 
the world ? added Emily in the awe-stricken 
tone of one who stood in fear of the omnipotent 
Mrs. Grundy. 

‘‘ Guardy will be glad to be rid of me, and I 
don’t care that for the world,” cried Sophie, 
snapping her fingers with a joyful sort of reck- 
lessness which completed Emily’s bewilderment. 

‘‘But Mr. Hammond? Are you going to 
throw away millions, lose your chance of making 
the best match in the city, and driving the girls 
of our set out of their wits with envy?” 

Sophie laughed at her friend’s despairing cry, 
and turning round said quietly, — 

“ I wrote to Mr. Hammond last night, and 
this evening received my reward for being an 
honest girl. Saul and I are to be married in the 
spring when Ruth is.” 

Emily fell prone upon the bed as if the an- 
nouncement was too much for her, but was up 
again in an instant to declare with prophetic 
solemnity, — 

“ I knew something was going on, but hoped 
to get you away before you were lost. Sophie, 
you will repent. Be warned, and forget this sad 
delusion.” 

“ Too late for that. The pang I suffered yes- 
terday when I thought Saul was dead showed 


A Country Christmas 139 

me how well I loved him. To-night he asked 
me to stay, and no power in the world can part 
us. Oh! Emily, it is all so sweet, so beautiful, 
that everything is possible, and I know I shall 
be happy in this dear old home, full of love and 
peace and honest hearts. I only hope you may 
find as true and tender a man to live for as my 
Saul.’’ 

Sophie’s face was more eloquent than her fer- 
vent words, and Emily beautifully illustrated the 
inconsistency of her sex by suddenly embracing 
her friend, with the incoherent exclamation, “ I 
think I have, dear! Your brave Saul is worth 
a dozen old Hammonds, and I do believe you are 
right.” 

It is unnecessary to tell how, as if drawn by 
the irresistible magic of sympathy, Ruth and her 
mother crept in one by one to join the midnight 
conference and add their smiles and tears, tender 
hopes and proud delight to the joys of that mem- 
orable hour. Nor how Saul, unable to sleep, 
mounted guard below, and meeting Randal 
prowling down to soothe his nerves with a sur- 
reptitious cigar found it impossible to help con- 
fiding to his attentive ear the happiness that 
would break bounds and overflow in unusual 
eloquence. 

Peace fell upon the old house at last, and all 
slept as if some magic herb had touched their 
eyelids, bringing blissful dreams and a glad 
awakening. 


Proverb Stories 


140 

“ Can’t we persuade you to come with us, 
Miss Sophie ? ” asked Randal next day, as they 
made their adieux. 

'' I ’m under orders now, and dare not disobey 
my superior officer/’ answered Sophie, handing 
her Major his driving gloves, with a look which 
plainly showed that she had joined the great 
army of devoted women who enlist for life and 
ask no pay but love. 

“ I shall depend on being invited to your wed- 
ding, then, and yours, too, Miss Ruth,” added 
Randal, shaking hands with “ the little bag- 
gage,” as if he had quite forgiven her mockery 
and forgotten his own brief lapse into sentiment. 

Before she could reply Aunt Plumy said, in 
a tone of calm conviction, that made them all 
laugh, and some of them look conscious, — 

‘‘ Spring is a good time for weddin’s, and I 
should n’t wonder ef there was quite a number.” 

Nor I; ” and Saul and Sophie smiled at one 
another as they saw how carefully Randal ar- 
ranged Emily’s wraps. 

Then with kisses, thanks and all the good 
wishes that happy hearts could imagine, the 
guests drove away, to remember long and grate- 
fully that pleasant country Christmas. 


ON PICKET. DUTY 


“ Better late than never.” 


<( 


W HAT 
My 


air you thinkin' of, Phil?” 
wife, Dick.” 


^ ^ So was I ! Ain’t it odd how 
fellers fall to thinkin’ of thar little women, when 
they get a quiet spell like this ? ” 

‘‘ Fortunate for us that we do get it, and have 
such memories to keep us brave and honest 
through the trials and temptations of a life like 
ours.” 

October moonlight shone clearly on the soli- 
tary tree, draped with gray moss, scarred by 
lightning and warped by wind, looking like a 
venerable warrior, whose long campaign was 
nearly done; and underneath was posted the 
guard of four. Behind them twinkled many 
camp-fires on a distant plain, before them wound 
a road ploughed by the passage of an army, 
strewn with the relics of a rout. On the right, 
a sluggish river glided, like a serpent, stealthy, 
sinuous, and dark, into a seemingly impervious 
jungle; on the left, a Southern swamp filled the 
air with malarial damps, swarms of noisome life. 


142 Proverb Stories 

and discordant sounds that robbed the hour of 
its repose. The men were friends as well as 
comrades, for though gathered from the four 
quarters of the Union, and dissimilar in educa- 
tion, character, and tastes, the same spirit ani- 
mated all; the routine of camp-life threw them 
much together, and mutual esteem soon grew 
into a bond of mutual good fellowship. 

Thorn was a Massachusetts volunteer; a man 
who seemed too early old, too early embittered 
by some cross, for, though grim of countenance, 
rough of speech, cold of manner, a keen observer 
would have soon discovered traces of a deeper, 
warmer nature hidden behind the repellent front 
he turned upon the world. A true New Eng- 
lander, thoughtful, acute, reticent, and opin- 
ionated; yet earnest withal, intensely patriotic, 
and often humorous, despite a touch of Puritan 
austerity. 

Phil, the “ romantic chap,’^ as he was called, 
looked his character to the life. Slender, 
swarthy, melancholy-eyed, and darkly-bearded; 
with feminine features, mellow voice, and alter- 
nately languid or vivacious manners. A child 
of the South in nature as in aspect, ardent and 
proud ; fitfully aspiring and despairing ; without 
the native energy which moulds character and 
ennobles life. Months of discipline and devotion 
had done much for him, and some deep experi- 
ence was fast ripening the youth into a man. 

Flint, the long-limbed lumberman, from the 


On Picket Duty 143 

wilds of Maine, was a conscript who, when gov- 
ernment demanded his money or his life, calcu- 
lated the cost, and decided that the cash would 
be a dead loss and the claim might be repeated, 
whereas the conscript would get both pay and 
plunder out of government, while taking excel- 
lent care that government got very little out of 
him. A shrewd, slow-spoken, self-reliant speci- 
men, was Flint; yet something of the fresh 
flavor of the backwoods lingered in him still, as 
if Nature were loath to give him up, and left 
the mark of her motherly hand upon him, as she 
leaves it in a dry, pale lichen, on the bosom of the 
roughest stone. 

Dick ‘‘ hailed ” from Illinois, and was a 
comely young fellow, full of dash and daring; 
rough and rowdy, generous and jolly, overflow- 
ing with spirits and ready for a free fight with 
all the world. 

Silence followed the last words, while the 
friendly moon climbed up the sky. Each man^s 
eye followed it, and each man’s heart was busy 
with remembrances of other eyes and hearts that 
might be watching and wishing as theirs watched 
and wished. In the silence, each shaped for him- 
self that vision of home that brightens so many 
camp-fires, haunts so many dreamers under can- 
vas roofs, and keeps so many turbulent natures 
tender by memories which often are both solace 
and salvation. 

Thorn paced to and fro, his rifle on his shoul- 


144 Proverb Stories 

der, vigilant and soldierly, however soft his heart 
might be. Phil leaned against the tree, one hand 
in the breast of his blue jacket, on the painted 
presentment of the face his fancy was picturing 
in the golden circle of the moon. Flint lounged 
on the sward, whistling softly as he whittled at 
a fallen bough. Dick was flat on his back, heels 
in air, cigar in mouth, and some hilarious notion 
in his mind, for suddenly he broke into a laugh. 

“ What is it, lad ? ’’ asked Thorn, pausing in 
his tramp, as if willing to be drawn from the dis- 
turbing thought that made his black brows lower 
and his mouth look grim. 

‘‘ Thinkin’ of my wife, and wishin’ she was 
here, bless her heart! set me rememberin’ how 
I see her fust, and so I roared, as I always do 
when it comes into my head.” 

‘‘How was it? Come, reel off a yarn, and 
let ’s hear houw yeou hitched teams,” said Flint, 
always glad to get information concerning his 
neighbors, if it could be cheaply done. 

“ Tellin’ how we found our wives would n’t 
be a bad game, would it, Phil ? ” 

“ I ’m agreeable ; but let ’s have your romance 
first.” 

“ Devilish little of that about me or any of 
my doin’s. I hate sentimental bosh as much as 
you hate slang, and should have been a bachelor 
to this day if I hadn’t seen Kitty jest as I did. 
You see, I ’d been too busy larkin’ round to get 
time for marryin’, till a couple of years ago, 


On Picket Duty 145 

when I did up the job double-quick, as I ’d like 
to do this thunderin’ slow one, hang it all ! ” 

“ Halt a minute till I give a look, for this 
picket is n’t going to be driven in or taken while 
I ’m on guard.” 

Down his beat went Thorn, reconnoitring 
river, road, and swamp, as thoroughly as one 
pair of keen eyes could do it, and came back 
satisfied, but still growling like a faithful mastiff 
on the watch; performances which he repeated 
at intervals till his own turn came. 

“ I did n’t have to go out of my own State 
for a wife, you ’d better believe,” began Dick, 
with a boast, as usual ; ‘‘ for we raise as fine a 
crop of girls thar as any State in or out of the 
Union, and don’t mind raisin’ Cain with any 
man who denies it. I was out on a gunnin’ 
tramp with Joe Partridge, a cousin of mine, — 
poor old chap! he fired his last shot at Gettys- 
burg, and died game in a way he did n’t dream 
of the day we popped off the birds together. It 
ain’t right to joke that way; I won’t if I can help 
it; but a feller gets awfully kind of heathenish 
these times, don’t he ? ” 

‘‘ Settle up them scores byme-by ; fightin’ 
Christians is scurse raound here. Fire away, 
Dick.” 

‘‘ Well, we got as hungry as hounds half a 
dozen mile from home, and when a farmhouse 
hove in sight, Joe said he ’d ask for a bite, and 
leave some of the plunder for pay. I was visitin’ 


146 Proverb Stories 

Joe, did n’t know folks round, and backed out 
of the beggin’ part of the job; so he went ahead 
alone. We ’d come out of the woods behind the 
house, and while Joe was foragin’, I took a rec- 
onnoissance. The view was fust-rate, for the 
main part of it was a girl airin’ beds on the roof 
of a stoop. Now, jest about that time, havin’ 
a leisure spell, I ’d begun to think of marryin’, 
and took a look at all the girls I met, with an 
eye to business. I s’pose every man has some 
sort of an idee or pattern of the wife he wants; 
pretty and plucky, good and gay was mine, but 
I ’d never found it till I see Kitty ; and as she 
did n’t see me, I had the advantage and took an 
extra long stare.” 

“ What was her good p’ints, hey ? ” 

Oh, well, she had a wide-awake pair of eyes, 
a bright, jolly sort of a face, lots of curly hair 
tumblin’ out of her net, a trig little figger, and 
a pair of the neatest feet and ankles that ever 
stepped. ‘ Pretty,’ thinks I ; ‘so far so good.’ 
The way she whacked the pillers, shook the 
blankets, and pitched into the beds was a caution ; 
specially one blunderin’ old feather-bed that 
would n’t do nothin’ but sag round in a pig- 
headed sort of way, that would have made most 
girls get mad and give up. Kitty did n’t, but 
just wrastled with it like a good one, till she got 
it turned, banged, and spread to suit her; then 
she plumped down in the middle of it, with a 
sarcy little nod and chuckle to herself, that 


On Picket Duty 147 

tickled me mightily. * Plucky/ thinks I, ‘ better 
better.’ Jest then an old woman came flyin’ 
out the back-door, callin’, ‘ Kitty ! Kitty ! Squire 
Partridge’s son ’s here, ’long with a friend ; been 
gunnin’, want luncheon, and I ’m all in the suds ; 
do come down and see to ’em.’ 

“ ‘ Where are they ? ’ says Kitty, scrambling 
up her hair and settlin’ her gown in a jiffy, as 
women have a knack of doin’, you know. 

“‘Mr. Joe’s in the front entry; the other 
man ’s somewheres round, Billy says, waitin’ till 
I send word whether they can stop. I darsn’t 
till I ’d seen you, for I can’t do nothin’, I ’m in 
such a mess,’ says the old lady. 

“ ‘ So am I, for I can’t get in except by the 
entry window, and he ’ll see me,’ says Kitty, 
gigglin’ at the thoughts of Joe. 

“ ‘ Come down the ladder, there *s a dear. I ’ll 
pull it round and keep it stiddy,’ says the mother. 

“ ‘ Oh, ma, don’t ask me ! ’ says Kitty, with 
a shiver. ‘ I ’m dreadfully scared of ladders 
since I broke my arm off this very one. It ’s so 
high, it makes me dizzy jest to think of.’ 

“ ‘ Well, then, I ’ll do the best I can ; but I 
wish them boys was to Jericho ! ’ says the old 
lady, with a groan, for she was fat and hot, had 
her gown pinned up, and was in a fluster gen- 
erally. She was goin’ off rather huffy, when 
Kitty called out, — 

“ ‘ Stop, ma ! I ’ll come down and help you, 
only ketch me if I tumble.’ 


148 Proverb Stories 

“ She looked scared but stiddy, and I ’ll bet it 
took as much grit for her to do it as for one of 
us to face a battery. It don’t seem much to tell 
of, but I wish I may be hit if it was n’t a right 
down dutiful and clever thing to see done. 
When the old lady took her off at the bottom, 
with a good motherly hug, ‘ Good,’ thinks I ; 
‘ what more do you want ? ’ ” 

“ A snug little property would n’t a ben bad, 
I reckon,” said Flint. 

“ Well, she had it, old skin-flint, though I 
did n’t know or care about it then. What a jolly 
row she ’d make if she knew I was tellin’ the 
ladder part of the story ! She always does when 
I get to it, and makes believe cry, with her head 
in my breast-pocket, or any such handy place, 
till I take it out and swear I ’ll never do so ag’in. 
Poor little Kit, I wonder what she ’s doin’ now. 
Thinkin’ of me, I ’ll bet.” 

Dick paused, pulled his cap lower over his 
eyes, and smoked a minute with more energy 
than enjoyment, for his cigar was out and he 
did not perceive it. 

‘‘That’s not all, is it?” asked Thorn, taking 
a fatherly interest in the younger man’s love pas- 
sages. 

“ Not quite. ’Fore long, Joe whistled, and as 
I always take short cuts everywhar, I put in at 
the back-door, jest as Kitty come trottin’ out of 
the pantry with a big berry-pie in her hand. I 
startled her, she tripped over the sill and down 


On Picket Duty 149 

she come ; the dish flew one way, the pie flopped 
into her lap, the juice spatterin^ my boots and 
her clean gown. I thought she ’d cry, scold, 
have hysterics, or some confounded thing or 
other; but she jest sat still a minute, then looked 
up at me with a great blue splash on her face, 
and went off into the good-naturedest gale of 
laughin' you ever heard in your life. That fin- 
ished me. ‘ Gay,' thinks I ; ‘ go in and win.’ 
So I did; made love hand over hand, while I 
stayed with Joe; pupposed a fortnight after, 
married her in three months, and there she is, 
a tiptop little woman, with a pair of stunnin’ 
boys in her arms ! " 

Out came a well-worn case, and Dick proudly 
displayed the likeness of a stout, much bejewelled 
young woman with two staring infants on her 
knee. In his sight, the poor picture was a more 
perfect work of art than any of Sir Joshua's 
baby-beauties, or Raphael's Madonnas, and the 
little story needed no better sequel than the 
young father's praises of his twins, the covert 
kiss he gave their mother when he turned as if 
to get a clearer light upon the face. Ashamed 
to show the tenderness that filled his honest 
heart, he hummed “ Kingdom Coming," relit 
his cigar, and presently began to talk again. 

‘‘ Now, then, Flint, it 's your turn to keep 
guard, and Thorn's to tell his romance. Come, 
don't try to shirk; it does a man good to talk 
of such things, and we 're all mates here.” 


150 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ In some cases it don’t do any good to talk 
of such things; better let ’em alone,” muttered 
Thorn, as he reluctantly sat down, while Flint 
as reluctantly departed. 

With a glance and gesture of real affection, 
Phil laid his hand upon his comrade’s knee, say- 
ing in his persuasive voice, “ Old fellow, it unll 
do you good, because I know you often long to 
speak of something that weighs upon you. 
You ’ve kept us steady many a time, and done 
us no end of kindnesses; why be too proud to 
let us give our sympathy in return, if nothing 
more? ” 

Thorn’s big hand closed over the slender one 
upon his knee, and the mild expression, so rarely 
seen upon his face, passed over it as he re- 
plied, — 

“ I think I could tell you almost anything if 
you asked me that way, my boy. It is n’t that 
I am too proud, — and you ’re right about my 
sometimes wanting to free my mind, — but it ’s 
because a man of forty don’t just like to open 
out to young fellows, if there is any danger of 
their laughing at him, though he may deserve 
it. I guess there is n’t now, and I ’ll tell you 
how I found my wife.” 

Dick sat up, and Phil drew nearer, for the 
earnestness that was in the man dignified his 
plain speech, and inspired an interest in his his- 
tory, even before it was begun. Looking gravely 
at the river and never at his hearers, as if still 


On Picket Duty 15 1 

a little shy of confidants, yet grateful for the 
relief of words, Thorn began abruptly: — 

“ I never hear the number eighty-four without 
clapping my hand to my left breast and missing 
my badge. You know I was on the police in 
New York, before the war, and that *s about all 
you do know yet. One bitter cold night I was 
going my rounds for the last time, when, as I 
turned a corner, I saw there was a trifle of work 
to be done. It was a bad part of the city, full 
of dirt and deviltry; one of the streets led to a 
ferry, and at the comer an old woman had an 
apple-stall. The poor soul had dropped asleep, 
worn out with the cold, and there were her 
goods left with no one to watch ’em. Some- 
body was watching ’em, however; a girl, with 
a ragged shawl over her head, stood at the mouth 
of an alley close by, waiting for a chance to grab 
something. I ’d seen her there when I went by 
before, and mistrusted she was up to some mis- 
chief; as I turned the corner, she put out her 
hand and cribbed an apple. She saw me the 
minute she did it, but neither dropped it nor ran, 
only stood stock still with the apple in her hand 
till I came up. 

' This won’t do, my girl,’ said I. I never 
could be harsh with ’em, poor things! She laid 
it back and looked up at me with a miserable 
sort of a smile, that made me put my hand in 
my pocket to fish for a ninepence before she 
spoke. 


152 Proverb Stories 

‘ I know it won’t/ she says. ‘ I did n’t want 
to do it, it ’s so mean, but I ’m awful hungry, 
sir.’ 

“ ‘ Better run home and get your supper, then.’ 

“ ‘ I ’ve got no home.’ 

‘ Where do you live? ’ 

‘ In the street.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Where do you sleep? ’ 

‘ Anywhere ; last night in the lock-up, and 
I thought I ’d get in there again, if I did that 
when you saw me. I like to go there, it ’s warm 
and safe.’ 

“ ‘ If I don’t take you there, what will you 
do?’ 

‘ Don’t know. I could go over there and 
dance again as I used to, but being sick has made 
me ugly, so they won’t have me, and no one else 
will take me because I have been there once.’ 

I looked where she pointed, and thanked the 
Lord that they would n’t take her. It was one 
of those low theatres that do so much damage 
to the like of her; there was a gambling place 
one side of it, an eating saloon the other. I was 
new to the work then, but though I ’d heard 
about hunger and homelessness often enough, 
I ’d never had this sort of thing, nor seen that 
look on a girl’s face. A white, pinched face hers 
was, with frightened, tired-looking eyes, but so 
innocent ! She was n’t more than sixteen, had 
been pretty once, I saw, looked sick and starved 
now, and seemed just the most helpless, hopeless 
little thing that ever was. 


On Picket Duty 153 

“‘You ’d better come to the Station for to- 
night, and we 'll see to you to-morrow/ says 1. 

“ ‘ Thank you, sir,' says she, looking as grate- 
ful as if I 'd asked her home. I suppose I did 
speak kind of fatherly. I ain't ashamed to say 
I felt so, seeing what a child she was; nor to 
own that when she put her little hand in mine, 
it hurt me to feel how thin and cold it was. We 
passed the eating-house where the red lights 
made her face as rosy as it ought to have been; 
there was meat and pies in the window, and the 
poor thing stopped to look. It was too much 
for her; off came her shawl, and she said in that 
coaxing way of hers, — 

“ ‘ I wish you 'd let me stop at the place close 
by and sell this ; they 'll give a little for it, and 
I 'll get some supper. I 've had nothing since 
yesterday morning, and maybe cold is easier to 
bear than hunger.' 

“ ‘ Have you nothing better than that to sell ? ' 
I says, not quite sure that she was n't all a hum- 
bug, like so many of 'em. She seemed to see 
that, and looked up at me again with such inno- 
cent eyes, I couldn't doubt her when she said, 
shivering with something beside the cold, — 

“ ‘ Nothing but myself.' Then the tears came, 
and she laid her head down on my arm, sobbing, 
— ‘ Keep me ! oh, do keep me safe some- 
where ! ' " 

Thorn choked here, steadied his voice with a 
resolute hem! but could only add one sentence 
more, — 


154 Proverb Stories 

That ’s how I found my wife/’ 

“ Come, don’t stop thar. I told the whole 
o’ mine, you do the same. Whar did you take 
her ? how ’d it all come round ? ” 

Please tell us, Thorn.” 

The gentler request was answered presently, 
very steadily, very quietly. 

‘‘ I was always a soft-hearted fellow, though 
you would n’t think it now, and when that little 
girl asked me to keep her safe, I just did it. I 
took her to a good woman whom I knew, for 
I had n’t any women folks belonging to me, nor 
any place but that to put her in. She stayed 
there till spring working for her keep, growing 
brighter, prettier, every day, and fonder of me, 
I thought. If I believed in witchcraft, I 
should n’t think myself such a fool as I do now, 
but I don’t believe in it, and to this day I can’t 
understand how I came to do it. To be sure I 
was a lonely man, without kith or kin, had never 
had a sweetheart in my life, or been much with 
women since my mother died. Maybe that ’s 
why I was so bewitched with Mary, for she had 
little ways with her that took your fancy and 
made you love her whether you would or no. 
I found her father was an honest fellow enough, 
a fiddler in some theatre ; that he ’d taken good 
care of Mary till he died, leaving precious little 
but advice for her to live on. She ’d tried to 
get work, failed, spent all she had, got sick, and 
was going to the bad, as the poor souls can 


On Picket Duty 155 

hardly help doing with so many ready to give 
them a shove. It ’s no use trying to make a bad 
job better; so the long and short of it was, I 
thought she loved me; God knows I loved her! 
and I married her before the year was out.” 

‘‘ Show us her picture ; I know you Ve got 
one; all the fellows have, though half of 'em 
won't own up.'' 

‘‘ I 've only got part of one. I once saved my 
little girl, and her picture once saved me.” 

From an inner pocket Thorn produced a 
woman's housewife, carefully untied it, though 
all its implements were missing but a little thim- 
ble, and from one of its compartments took a 
flattened bullet and the remnants of a picture. 

I gave her that the first Christmas after I 
found her. She was n't as tidy about her clothes 
as I liked to see, and I thought if I gave her a 
handy thing like this, she 'd be willing to sew. 
But she only made one shirt for me, and then 
got tired, so I keep it like an old fool, as I am. 
Yes, that 's the bit of lead that would have done 
for me, if Mary's likeness had n't been just 
where it was.” 

You 'll like to show her this when you go 
home, won't you ? ” said Dick, as he took up the 
bullet, while Phil examined the marred picture, 
and Thorn poised the little thimble on his big 
finger, with a sigh. 

‘‘ How can I, when I don't know where she 
is, and camp is all the home I 've got ! ” 


156 Proverb Stories 

The words broke from him like a sudden 
groan, when some old wound is rudely touched. 
Both of the young men started, both laid back 
the relics they had taken up, and turned their 
eyes from Thorn’s face, across which swept a 
look of shame and sorrow, too significant to be 
misunderstood. Their silence assured him of 
their sympathy, and, as if that touch of friend- 
liness unlocked his heavy heart, he eased it by a 
full confession. When he spoke again, it was 
with the calmness of repressed emotion, a calm- 
ness more touching to his mates than the most 
passionate outbreak, the most pathetic lamen- 
tation; for the coarse camp-phrases seemed to 
drop from his vocabulary; more than once his 
softened voice grew tremulous, and to the words 
“ my little girl,” there went a tenderness that 
proved how dear a place she still retained in that 
deep heart of his. 

Boys, I Ve gone so far ; I may as well fin- 
ish ; and you ’ll see I ’m not without some cause 
for my stern looks and ways ; you ’ll pity me, 
and from you I ’ll take the comfort of it. It ’s 
only the old story, — I married her, worked for 
her, lived for her, and kept my little girl like a 
lady. I should have known that I was too old 
and sober for a young thing like that, for the 
life she led before the pinch came just suited her. 
She liked to be admired, to dress and dance and 
make herself pretty for all the world to see; 
not to keep house for a quiet man like me. Idle- 


On Picket Duty 157 

ness was n't good for her, it bred discontent ; 
then some of her old friends, who ’d left her in 
her trouble, found her out when better times 
came round, and tried to get her back again. I 
was away all day, I did n’t know how things 
were going, and she was n’t open with me, afraid 
she said; I was so grave, and hated theatres so. 
She got courage finally to tell me that she was n’t 
happy; that she wanted to dance again, and 
asked me if she might n’t. I ’d rather have had 
her ask me to put her in a fire, for I did hate 
theatres, and was bred to ; others think they ’re 
no harm. I do ; and knew it was a bad life for 
a girl like mine. It pampers vanity, and vanity 
is the Devil’s help with such; so I said No, 
kindly at first, sharp and stern when she kept on 
teasing. That roused her spirit. ‘ I will go ! ’ 
she said, one day. ‘ Not while you are my wife,’ 
I answered back; and neither said any more, but 
she gave me a look I did n’t think she could, 
and I resolved to take her away from temptation 
before worse came of it. 

I did n’t tell her my plan ; but I resigned 
my place, spent a week or more finding and fix- 
ing a little home for her out in the wholesome 
country, where she ’d be safe from theatres and 
disreputable friends, and maybe learn to love 
me better when she saw how much she was to 
me. It was coming summer, and I made things 
look as home-like and as pretty as I could. She 
liked flowers, and I fixed a garden for her; she 


158 Proverb Stories 

was fond of pets, and I got her a bird, a kitten, 
and a dog to play with her; she fancied gay col- 
ors and tasty little matters, so I filled her rooms 
with all the handsome things I could afford, and 
when it was done, I was as pleased as any boy, 
thinking what happy times we 'd have together 
and how pleased she ^d be. Boys, when I went 
to tell her and to take her to her little home, she 
was gone.” 

‘‘ Who with? ” 

‘‘With those cursed friends of her; a party 
of them left the city just then; she was wild to 
go; she had money now, and all her good looks 
back again. They teased and tempted her; I 
was n’t there to keep her, and she went, leaving 
a line behind to tell me that she loved the old 
life more than the new; that my house was a 
prison, and she hoped I ’d let her go in peace. 
That almost killed me; but I managed to bear 
it, for I knew most of the fault was mine; but 
it was awful bitter to think I had n’t saved her, 
after all.” 

“ Oh, Thorn ! what did you do ? ” 

“Went straight after her; found her dancing 
in Philadelphia, with paint on her cheeks, trin- 
kets on her neck and arms, looking prettier than 
ever; but the innocent eyes were gone, and I 
could n’t see my little girl in the bold, handsome 
woman twirling there before the footlights. 
She saw me, looked scared at first, then smiled, 
and danced on with her eyes upon me, as if she 
said, — 


On Picket Duty 159 

** * See ! I happy now ; go away and let me 
be.’ 

‘‘ I could n’t stand that, and got out somehow. 
People thought me mad, or drunk ; I did n’t 
care, I only wanted to see her once in quiet and 
try to get her home. I could n’t do it then nor 
afterwards by fair means, and I would n’t try 
force. I wrote to her, promised to forgive her, 
begged her to come back, or let me keep her 
honestly somewhere away from me. But she 
never answered, never came, and I have never 
tried again.” 

“ She was n’t worthy of you. Thorn ; you jest 
forgit her.” 

I wish I could ! I wish I could ! ” In his 
voice quivered an almost passionate regret, and 
a great sob heaved his chest, as he turned his 
face away to hide the love and longing, still so 
tender and so strong. 

“ Don’t say that, Dick ; such fidelity should 
make us charitable for its own sake. There is 
always time for penitence, always certainty of 
pardon. Take heart. Thorn, you may not wait 
in vain, and she may yet return to you.” 

I know she will! I ’ve dreamed of it, I ’ve 
prayed for it; every battle I come out of safe 
makes me surer that I was kept for that, and 
when I ’ve borne enough to atone for my part 
of the fault, I ’ll be repaid for all my patience, 
all my pain, by finding her again. She knows 
how well I love her still, and if there comes a 


i6o Proverb Stories 

time when she is sick and poor and all alone 
again, then she ’ll remember her old John, then 
she ’ll come home and let me take her in.” 

Hope shone in Thorn’s melancholy eyes, and 
long-suffering, all-forgiving love beautified the 
rough, brown face, as he folded his arms and 
bent his gray head on his breast, as if the wan- 
derer were already come. 

The emotion which Dick scorned to show on 
his own account was freely manifested for an- 
other, as he sniffed audibly, and, boy-like, drew 
his sleeve across his eyes. But Phil, with the 
delicate perception of a finer nature, felt that 
the truest kindness he could show his friend was 
to distract his thoughts from himself, to spare 
him any comments, and lessen the embarrass- 
ment which would surely follow such unwonted 
confidence. 

Now I ’ll relieve Flint, and he will give you 
a laugh. Come on, Hiram, and tell us about 
your Beulah.” 

The gentleman addressed had performed his 
duty by sitting on a fence and “ righting up ” 
his pockets, to beguile the tedium of his exile. 
Before his multitudinous possessions could be 
restored to their native sphere. Thorn was him- 
self again, and on his feet. 

“ Stay where you are, Phil ; I like to tramp, 
it seems like old times, and I know you ’re tired. 
Just forget all this I ’ve been saying, and go 
on as before. Thank you, boys! thank you,” 


On Picket Duty i6i 

and with a grasp of the two hands extended to 
him, he strode away along the path already worn 
by his own restless feet. 

It ’s done him good, and I ’m glad of that; 
but I M like to see the little baggage that be- 
witched the poor old boy, would n’t you, Phil ? ” 
‘^Hush! here ’s Flint.” 

‘‘ What ’s up naow ? want me tew address the 
meetin’, hey ? I’m willin’, only the laugh ’s 
ruther ag’inst me, ef I tell that story; expect 
you ’ll like it all the better fer that.” Flint coiled 
up his long limbs, put his hands in his pockets, 
chewed meditatively for a moment, and then 
began, with his slowest drawl : — 

‘‘ Waal, sir, it ’s pretty nigh ten year ago, I 
was damster daown tew Oldtaown, clos’t to 
Banggore. My folks lived tew Bethel; there 
was only the old man, and Aunt Siloam, keepin’ 
house fer him, seein’ as I was the only chick he 
hed. I hed n’t beared from ’em fer a long spell, 
when there come a letter sayin’ the old man was 
breakin’ up. He ’d said it every spring fer a 
number er years, and I did n’t mind it no more ’n 
the breakin’ up er the river; not so much, jest 
then; fer the gret spring drive was cornin’ on, 
and my hands was tew full to quit work all tew 
oncet. I sent word I ’d be ’long ’fore a gret 
while, and byme-by I went. I ought tew hev 
gone at fust; but they ’d sung aout ‘ Wolf! ’ so 
often I warn’t scared; an’ sure ’nuff the wolf 
did come at last. Father hed been dead and 


i 62 


Proverb Stories 


berried a week when I got there, and aunt was 
so mad she would n’t write, nor scurcely speak 
tew me for a considerable spell. I did n’t blame 
her a mite, and felt jest the wust kind; so I 
give in every way, and fetched her raound. 
Yeou see I hed a cousin who ’d kind er took my 
place tew hum while I was off, an’ the old man 
hed left him a good slice er his money, an’ me 
the farm, hopin’ to keep me there. He ’d never 
liked the lumberin’ bizness, an’ hankered arfter 
me a sight, I faound. Waal, seein’ haow ’t was, 
I tried tew please him, late as it was; but ef 
there was ennything I did spleen ag’inst it was 
farmin’, ’specially arfter the smart times I ’d 
ben hevin’, up Oldtaown way. Yeou don’t know 
nothin’ abaout it; but ef yeou want tew see 
high dewin’s, jest hitch onto a timber-drive an’ 
go it daown along them lakes and rivers, say 
from Kaumchenungamooth tew Punnobscot Bay. 
Guess yeou ’d see a thing or tew, an’ find livin’ 
on a log come as handy as ef you was born a 
turtle. 

“ Waal, I stood it one summer; but it was the 
longest kind of a job. Come fall I turned contry, 
darned the farm, and vaowed I ’d go back tew 
loggin’. Aunt hed got fond er me by that time, 
and felt dreadful bad abaout my leavin’ on her. 
Cousin Siah, as we called Josiah, did n’t cotton 
tew the old woman, though he did tew her cash ; 
but we hitched along fust-rate. She was ’tached 
tew the place, hated tew hev it let or sold, thought 


On Picket Duty 163 

I go to everlastin’ rewin ef I took tew lum- 
berin' ag’in, an' hevin' a tidy little sum er money 
all her own, she took a notion tew buy me off. 
‘ Hiram,' sez she, ‘ ef yeou 'll stay to hum, merry 
some smart girl, an' kerry on the farm, I 'll leave 
yeou the hull er my fortin. Ef yeou don't, I 'll 
leave every cent on 't tew Siah, though he ain't 
done as waal by me as yeou hev. Come,' sez she, 
‘ I 'm breakin' up like brother ; I shan't wurry 
any one a gret while, and 'fore spring I dessay 
you '11 hev cause tew rejice that yeou done as 
Aunt Si counselled yeou.' 

“ Now, that idee kinder took me, seein' I 
hed n't no overpaourin' love fer cousin ; but I 
brewdid over it a spell 'fore I 'greed. Fin'lly, 
I said I 'd dew it, as it warn't a hard nor a bad 
trade; and begun to look raound fer Mis Flint, 
Jr. Aunt was dreadf'l pleased; but 'mazin' per- 
tickler as tew who was goin' tew stan' in her 
shoes, when she was fetched up ag'inst the etar- 
nal boom. There was a sight er likely women- 
folks raound taown; but aunt she set her foot 
daown that Mis Flint must be smart, pious, an' 
^ good-natered ; harnsome she did n't say nothin' 
abaout, bein' the humliest woman in the State er 
Maine. I hed my own calk'lations on that p'int, 
an' went sparkin' two or three er the pootiest 
gals, all that winter. I warn't in no hurry, fer 
merryin' is an awful resky bizness; an' I wan't 
goan to be took in by nobuddy. Some haouw 
I could n't make up my mind which I 'd hev, 


164 Proverb Stories 

and kept dodgin', all ready to slew raound, an' 
hitch on tew ary one that seemed likeliest. 
'Long in March, aunt, she ketched cold, took 
tew her bed, got wuss, an' told me tew hurry 
up, fer nary cent should I hev, ef I warn't safely 
merried 'fore she stepped out. I thought that 
was ruther craoudin’ a feller; but I see she was 
goan sure, an' I 'd got inter a way er considerin' 
the cash mine, so that it come hard to hear 
abaout givin' on 't up. Off I went that evenin' 
an' asked Almiry Nash ef she 'd hev me. No, 
she would n't ; I 'd shilly-shallyed so long, she 'd 
got tired er waitin' and took tew keepin' com- 
pany with a doctor daown ter Banggore, where 
she 'd ben visitin' a spell. I did n't find that as 
hard a nub to swaller, as I 'd a thought I would, 
though Almiry was the richest, pootiest, and 
good-naterest of the lot. Aunt larfed waal, an' 
told me tew try ag'in; so a couple er nights 
arfter, I spruced up, an' went over to Car'line 
Miles's; she was as smart as old cheese, an' 
waal off intew the barg’in. I was just as sure 
she 'd hev me, as I be that I 'm gittin' the rew- 
matiz a settin' in this ma'sh. But that minx, 
Almiry, hed ben and let on abaout her own sarsy 
way er servin' on me, an' Car'line jest up an' 
said she warn't goan to hev annybuddy's leav- 
in's; so daown I come ag'in. 

‘‘ Things was gettin' desper’t by that time ; 
fer aunt was failin' rapid, an' the story hed 
leaked aout some way, so the hull taown was 


On Picket Duty 165 

gigglin’ over it. I thought I ’d better quit them 
parts ; but aunt she showed me her will all done 
complete, ’sceptin the fust name er the legatee. 
‘ There,’ sez she, ‘ it all depends on yeou, whether 
that place is took by Hiram or Josiah. It ’s easy 
done, an’ so it ’s goan tew stan till the last minit.’ 
That riled me consid’able, an’ I streaked off tew 
May Jane Simlin’s. She wan’t very waal off, 
nor extra harnsome, but she was pious the worst 
kind, an’ dreadf’l clever to them she fancied. 
But I was daown on my luck ag’in; fer at the 
fust word I spoke of merryin’, she showed me 
the door, an’ give me to understan’ that she 
could n’t think er hevin’ a man that warn’t a 
church-member, that had n’t experienced relig- 
ion, or even ben struck with conviction, an’ all 
the rest on ’t. Ef anny one hed a wanted tew 
hev seen a walkin’ hornet’s nest, they could hev 
done it cheap that night, as I went hum. I jest 
bounced intew the kitchen, chucked my hat intew 
one corner, my coat intew ’nother, kicked the 
cat, cussed the fire, drawed up a chair, and set 
scaoulin’ like sixty, bein’ tew mad fer talkin’. 
The young woman that was nussin’ aunt, — 
Bewlah Blish, by name, — was a cooking grewel 
on the coals, and ’peared tew understan’ the mess 
I was in ; but she did n’t say nothin’, only blowed 
up the fire, fetched me a mug er cider, an’ went 
raound so kinder quiet, and sympathizin’, that I 
found the wrinkles in my temper gettin’ 
smoothed aout ’mazin’ quick; an’ fore long I 


i66 


Proverb Stories 


made a clean breast er the hull thing. Bewlah 
larfed, but I did n’t mind her doin’ on ’t, for she 
sez, sez she, real sort o’ cunnin’, — 

‘‘ ‘ Poor Hiram ! they did n’t use yeou waal. 
Yeou ought to hev tried some er the poor an’ 
humly girls ; they ’d a been glad an’ grateful fer 
such a sweetheart as yeou be.’ 

I was good-natered ag’in by that time, an’ 
I sez, larfin’ along with her, * Waal, I ’ve got 
three mittens, but I guess, I might ’s waal hev 
’nother, and that will make two pair complete. 
Say, Bewlah, will yeou hev me ? ’ 

“ ‘Yes, I will,’ sez she. 

“‘Reelly?’ sez I. 

“ ‘ Solemn trew,’ sez she. 

“ Ef she ’d up an’ slapped me in the face, I 
should n’t hev ben more throwed aback, fer I 
never mistrusted she cared two chips for me. 
I jest set an’ gawped ; fer she was ‘ solemn 
trew,’ I see that with half an eye, an’ it kinder 
took my breath away. Bewlah drawed the 
grewel off the fire, wiped her hands, an’ stood 
lookin’ at me a minnet, then she sez, slow an’ 
quiet, but tremblin’ a little, as women hev a way 
er doin’, when they ’ve consid’able steam 
aboard, — 

“ ‘ Hiram, other folks think lumberin’ has 
spilt yeou; 7 don’t; they call you rough an’ 
rewd ; I know you ’ve got a real kind heart fer 
them as knows haow tew find it. Them girls give 
yeou up so easy, ’cause they never loved yeou, 


On Picket Duty 167 

an’ yeou give them up ’cause you only thought 
abaout their looks an’ money. I ’m humly, an’ 
I ’m poor ; but I ’ve loved yeou ever sence we 
went a-nuttin’ years ago, an’ yeou shook daown 
fer me, kerried my bag, and kissed me tew the 
gate, when all the others shunned me, ’cause my 
father drank an’ I was shabby dressed, ugly, 
an’ shy. Yeou asked me in sport, I answered 
in airnest; but I don’t expect nothin’ unless 
yeou mean as I mean. Like me, Hiram, or leave 
me, it won’t make no odds in my lovin’ of yeou, 
nor helpin’ of yeou, ef I kin.’ 

‘‘ ’T ain’t easy tew say haouw I felt, while she 
was goin’ on that way, but my idees was tumblin’ 
raound inside er me, as ef half a dozen dams 
was broke loose all tew oncet. One think was 
ruther stiddier ’n the rest, an’ that was that I 
liked Bewlah more ’n I knew. I begun tew see 
what kep’ me loafin’ tew hum so much, sence 
aunt was took daown; why I wan’t in no hurry 
tew git them other gals, an’ haow I come tew 
pocket my mittens so easy arfter the fust rile 
was over. Bewlah was humly, poor in flesh, 
dreadful freckled, hed red hair, black eyes, an’ 
a gret mold side of her nose. But I ’d got 
wonted tew her; she knowed my ways, was a 
fust rate housekeeper, real good-tempered, and 
pious without flingin’ on ’t in yer face. She was 
a lonely creeter, — her folks bein’ all dead but 
one sister, who did n’t use her waal, an’ somehow 
I kinder yearned over her, as they say in Scrip- 


1 68 Proverb Stories 

ter. For all I set an’ gawped, I was coming 
raound fast, though I felt as I used tew, when 
I was goin’ to shoot the rapids, kinder breath- 
less an’ oncertin, whether I ’d come aout right 
side up or not. Queer, warn’t it? ” 

‘‘ Love, Flint ; that was a sure symptom of it.” 

Waal, guess ’t was; anyway I jumped up all 
of a sudden, ketched Bewlah raound the neck, 
give her a hearty kiss, and sung aout, ‘ I ’ll dew 
it sure ’s my name ’s Hi Flint! ’ The words was 
scarcely out of my maouth, ’fore daown come 
Dr. Parr. He’ d ben up tew see aunt, an’ said 
she would n’t last the night threw, prob’ly. That 
give me a scare er the wust kind; an’ when I 
told doctor haow things was, he sez, kinder 
jokin’, — 

‘‘ ‘ Better git merried right away, then. Par- 
son Dill is tew come an’ see the old lady, an’ he ’ll 
dew both jobs tew oncet.’ 

“ ‘ Will yeou, Bewlah? ’ sez I. 

* Yes, Hiram, to ’blige yeou,’ sez she. 

‘‘ With that, I put it fer the license ; got it, 
an’ was back in less ’n half an haour, most tuck- 
ered aout with the flurry of the hull concern. 
Quick as I ’d been, Beylah bed faound time tew 
whip on her best gaoun, flx up her hair, and put 
a couple er white chrissanthymums intew her 
hand’chif pin. Fer the fust time in her life, 
she looked harnsome, — leastways I thought so, 
— with a pretty color in her cheeks, some- 
thin’ brighter ’n a larf shinin’ in her eyes, and 


On Picket Duty ibg 

her lips smilin’ an’ tremblin’, as she come to me 
an’ whispered so ’s ’t none er the rest could 
hear, — 

“ ‘ Hiram, don’t yeou dew it, ef yeou ’d ruther 
not. I ’ve stood it a gret while alone, an’ I guess 
I can ag’in.’ 

“ Never yeou mind what I said or done abaout 
that; but we was merried ten minutes arfter, 
’fore the kitchen fire, with Dr. Parr an’ aour 
hired man, fer witnesses; an’ then we all went 
up tew aunt. She was goan fast, but she under- 
stood what I told her, hed strength tew fill up 
the hole in the will, an’ to say, a-kissin’ Bewlah, 
‘ Yeou ’ll be a good wife, an’ naow yeou ain’t 
a poor one.’ 

“ I could n’t help givin’ a peek tew the will, 
and there I see not Hiram Flint nor Josiah Flint, 
but Bewlah Flint, wrote every which way, but 
as plain as the nose on yer face. ‘ It won’t make 
no odds, dear,’ whispered my wife, peekin’ over 
my shoulder. ‘ Guess it won’t ! ’ sez I, aout 
laoud ; ‘I’m glad on ’t, and it ain’t a cent 
more ’n yeou derserve.’ 

“ That pleased aunt. ‘ Riz me, Hiram,’ sez 
she ; an’ when I ’d got her easy, she put her old 
arms raound my neck, an’ tried to say, ‘ God 
bless you, dear — ,’ but died a doin’ of it; an’ 
I ain’t ashamed tew say I boohooed real hearty, 
when I laid her daown, fer she was dread f’l good 
tew me, an’ I don’t forgit her in a hurry.” 

“ How ’s Bewlah ? ” asked Dick, after the lit- 


lyo Proverb Stories 

tie tribute of respect all paid to Aunt Siloam’s 
memory, by a momentary silence. 

Fust-rate ! that harum-scarum venter er 
mine was the best I ever made. She ’s done 
waal by me, hes Bewlah; ben a grand good 
haousekeeper, kin kerry on the farm better ’n 
me, any time, an^ is as dutiful an^ lovin’ a wife 
as, — waal, as anny thing that is extra dutif’l and 
lovin’.” 

“ Got any boys to brag of? ” 

‘‘ We don’t think much o’ boys daown aour 
way ; they ’re ’mazin’ resky stock to fetch up, 
— alluz breakin’ baounds, gittin’ intew the 
paound, and wurryin’ your life aout somehaow 
’nother. Gals naow doos waal ; I ’ve got six o’ 
the likeliest the is goin’, every one on ’em is the 
very moral of Bewlah, — red hair, black eyes, 
quiet ways, an’ a mold ’side the nose. Baby’s 
ain’t growed yet; but I expect tew see it in a 
consid’able state o’ forrardness, when I git hum, 
an’ would n’t miss it fer the world.” 

The droll expression of Flint’s face, and the 
satisfied twang of his last words, were irresisti- 
ble. Dick and Phil went off into a shout of 
laughter; and even Thorn’s grave lips relapsed 
into a smile at the vision of six little Flints with 
their six little moles. As if the act were an 
established ceremony, the “ paternal head ” pro- 
duced his pocket-book, selected a worn black- 
and-white paper, which he spread in his broad 
palm, and displayed with the air of a connoisseur. 


On Picket Duty 17 1’ 

There, thet ’s Bewlah ! we call it a cuttin^ ; 
but the proper name ’s a silly-hoot, I b’leeve. 
I Ve got a harnsome big degarrytype tew hum, 
but the heft on ’t makes it bad tew kerry raound, 
so I took this. I don’t tote it abaout inside my 
shirt, as some dew, — it ain’t my way ; but I 
keep it in my wallet long with my other valleu’- 
bles, and guess I set as much store by it as ef 
it was all painted up, and done off to kill.” 

The ‘‘ silly-hoot ” was examined with interest, 
and carefully stowed away again in the old 
brown wallet, which was settled in its place with 
a satisfied slap ; then Flint said briskly, — 

‘‘ Naouw, Phil, yeou close this interestin’ and 
instructive meeting ; and be spry, fer time ’s 
most up.” 

I have n’t much to tell, but must begin with 
a confession which I have often longed but never 
dared to make before, because I am a coward.” 

“ Sho ! who ’s goan to b’leeve that o’ a man 
who fit like a wild-cat, wuz offered permotion 
on the field, and reported tew headquarters arfter 
his fust scrimmage. Try ag’in, Phil.” 

“ Physical courage is as plentiful as brass but- 
tons, nowadays, but moral courage is a rarer 
virtue ; and I ’m lacking in it, as I ’ll prove. 
You think me a Virginian ; I ’m an Alabamian 
by birth, and was a Rebel three months ago.” 

This confession startled his hearers, as he 
knew it would, for he had kept his secret well. 
Thorn laid his hand involuntarily upon his rifle. 


Proverb Stories 


172 

Dick drew off a little, and Flint illustrated one 
of his own expressions, for he “ gawped/’ Phil 
laughed that musical laugh of his, and looked up 
at them with his dark face waking into sudden 
life, as he went on : — 

“ There ’s no treason in the camp, for I ’m as 
fierce a Federalist as any of you now, and you 
may thank a woman for it. When Lee made 
his raid into Pennsylvania, I was a lieutenant in 
the — well, never mind what regiment, it has n’t 
signalized itself since, and I ’d rather not hit my 
old neighbors when they are down. In one of 
the skirmishes during our retreat, I got a wound 
and was left for dead. A kind old Quaker found 
and took me home; but though I was too weak 
to talk, I had my senses by that time, and knew 
what went on about me. Everything was in 
confusion, even in that well-ordered place; no 
surgeon could be got at first, and a flock of 
frightened women thee’d and thou’d one another 
over me, but had n’t wit enough to see that I 
was bleeding to death. Among the faces that 
danced before my dizzy eyes was one that seemed 
familiar, probably because no cap surrounded it. 
I was glad to have it bending over me, to hear 
a steady voice say, ‘ Give me a bandage, quick ! ’ 
and when none was instantly forthcoming to me, 
the young lady stripped up a little white apron 
she wore, and stanched the wound in my shoul- 
der. I was not as badly hurt as I supposed, but 
so worn-out, and faint from loss of blood, they 



“‘A flock of frightened women thee’d and tliou’d one another over 
me.’” Page ij2. 


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On Picket Duty 173 

believed me to be dying, and so did I, when the 
old man took off his hat and said, — 

Friend, if thee has anything to say, thee 
had better say it, for thee probably has not long 
to live/ 

“ I thought of my little sister, far away in 
Alabama, fancied she came to me, and muttered, 
‘ Amy, kiss me good-by/ The women sobbed at 
that; but the girl bent her sweet compassionate 
face to mine, and kissed me on the forehead. 
That was my wife.” 

‘‘ So you seceded from Secession right away, 
to pay for that lip-service, hey?” 

No, Thorn, not right away, — to my shame 
be it spoken. I ’ll tell you how it came about. 
Margaret was not old Bent’s daughter, but a 
Massachusetts girl on a visit, and a long one it 
proved, for she could n’t go till things were 
quieter. While she waited, she helped take care 
of me ; for the good souls petted me like a baby 
when they found that a Rebel could be a gentle- 
man. I held my tongue, and behaved my best 
to prove my gratitude, you know. Of course, 
I loved Margaret very soon. How could I help 
it ? She was the sweetest woman I had ever seen, 
tender, frank, and spirited; all I had ever 
dreamed of and longed for. I did not speak of 
this, nor hope for a return, because I knew she 
was a hearty Unionist, and thought she only 
tended me from pity. But suddenly she decided 
to go home, and when I ventured to wish she 


174 Proverb Stories 

would stay longer, she would not listen, and said, 
‘ I must not stay ; I should have gone before/ 

“ The words were nothing, but as she uttered 
them the color came up beautifully over all her 
face, and her eyes filled as they looked away 
from mine. Then I knew that she loved me, and 
my secret broke out against my will. Margaret 
was forced to listen, for I would not let her go, 
but she seemed to harden herself against me, 
growing colder, stiller, statelier, as I went on, 
and when I said in my desperate way, — 

‘ You should love me, for we are bid to love 
our enemies,’ she flashed an indignant look at 
me and said, — 

“ ‘ I will not love what I cannot respect ! 
Come to me a loyal man, and see what answer 
I shall give you.’ 

‘‘ Then she went away. It was the wisest 
thing she could have done, for absence did more 
to change me than an ocean of tears, a year of 
exhortations. Lying there, I missed her every 
hour of the day, recalled every gentle act, kind 
word, and fair example she had given me. I 
contrasted my own belief with hers, and found 
a new significance in the words honesty and 
honor, amd, remembering her fidelity to principle, 
was ashamed of my own treason to God and to 
herself. Education, prejudice, and interest, are 
difficult things to overcome, and that was the 
hottest fight I ever passed through, for as I tell 
you, I was a coward. But love and loyalty won 


On Picket Duty 175 

the day, and, asking no quarter, the Rebel sur- 
rendered.’^ 

Phil Beaufort, you ’re a brick ! ” cried Dick, 
with a sounding slap on his comrade’s shoulder. 

A brand snatched from the burnin’. Halle- 
lujah!” chanted Flint, seesawing with excite- 
ment. 

‘‘ Then you went to find your wife ? How ? 
Where ? ” asked Thorn, forgetting vigilance in 
interest. 

“ Friend Bent hated war so heartily that he 
would have nothing to do with paroles, ex- 
changes, or any martial process whatever, but 
bade me go when and where I liked, remember- 
ing to do by others as I had been done by. Be- 
fore I was well enough to go, however, I man- 
aged, by means of Copperhead influence and 
returned prisoners, to send a letter to my father 
and receive an answer. You can imagine what 
both contained; and so I found myself penni- 
less, but not poor, an outcast, but not alone. Old 
Bent treated me like a prodigal son, and put 
money in my purse; his pretty daughters loved 
me for Margaret’s sake, and gave me a patriotic 
salute all round when I left them, the humblest, 
happiest man in Pennsylvania. Margaret once 
said to me that this was the time for deeds, not 
words; that no man should stand idle, but serve 
the good cause with head, heart, and hand, no 
matter in what rank; for in her eyes a private 
fighting for liberty was nobler than a dozen gen- 


176 Proverb Stories 

erals defending slavery. I remembered that, 
and, not having influential friends to get me a 
commission, enlisted in one of her own Massa- 
chusetts regiments, knowing that no act of mine 
would prove my sincerity like that. You should 
have seen her face when I walked in upon her, 
as she sat alone, busied with the army work, as 
I’d so often seen her sitting by my bed; it 
showed me all she had been suffering in silence, 
all I should have lost had I chosen darkness in- 
stead of light. She hoped and feared so much 
she could not speak, neither could I, but dropped 
my cloak, and showed her that, through love of 
her, I had become a soldier of the Union. How 
I love the coarse blue uniform! for when she 
saw it, she came to me without a word and kept 
her promise in a month.” 

Thunder ! what a harnsome woman ! ” ex- 
claimed Flint, as Phil, opening the golden case 
that held his talisman, showed them the beautiful, 
beloved face of which he spoke. 

‘‘Yes! and a right noble woman too. I don’t 
deserve her, but I will. We parted on our wed- 
ding-day, for orders to be off came suddenly, 
and she would not let me go until I had given 
her my name to keep. We were married in the 
morning, and at noon I had to go. Other 
women wept as we marched through the city, 
but my brave Margaret kept her tears till we 
were gone, smiling and waving her hand to me, 
— the hand that wore the wedding-ring, — till 


On Picket Duty 177 

I was out of sight. That image of her is before 
me day and night, and day and night her last 
words are ringing in my ears, — 

‘‘ ‘ I give you freely, do your best. Better a 
true man’s widow than a traitor’s wife.’ 

‘‘ Boys, I ’ve only stood on the right side for 
a month ; I ’ve only fought one battle, earned 
one honor ; but I believe these poor achievements 
are an earnest of the long atonement I desire to 
make for five-and-twenty years of blind trans- 
gression. You say I fight well. Have I not 
cause to dare much? — for in owning many 
slaves, I too became a slave; in helping to make 
many freemen, I liberate myself. You wonder 
why I refused promotion. Have I any right to 
it yet? Are there not men who never sinned as 
I have done, and beside whose sacrifices mine 
look pitifully small? You tell me I have no 
ambition. I have the highest, for I desire to 
become God’s noblest work, — an honest man, 
— living, to make Margaret happy in a love that 
every hour grows worthier of her own, — dying 
to make death proud to take me.” 

Phil had risen while he spoke, as if the en- 
thusiasm of his mood lifted him into the truer 
manhood he aspired to attain. Straight and 
strong he stood up in the moonlight, his voice 
deepened by unwonted energy, his eye clear and 
steadfast, his whole face ennobled by the regen- 
erating power of this late loyalty to country, 
wife, and self, and bright against the dark blue 


lyS Proverb Stories 

of his jacket shone the pictured face, the only 
medal he was proud to wear. 

Ah, brave, brief moment, cancelling years of 
wrong! Ah, fair and fatal decoration, serving 
as a mark for a hidden foe! The sharp crack 
of a rifle broke the stillness of the night, and 
with those hopeful words upon his lips, the 
young man sealed his purpose with his life. 


THE BARONES GLOVES; 

OR, 

AMY’S ROMANCE 

“ All is fair in love and war.” 

I 

HOW THEY WERE FOUND 


W’ 


"HAT a long sigh! Are you tired, 
Amy ? ” 

“ Yes, and disappointed as well. 
I never would have undertaken this journey if 
I had not thought it would be full of novelty, 
romance, and charming adventures.” 

“ Well, we have had several adventures.” 

“ Bah I losing one’s hat in the Rhine, getting 
left at a dirty little inn, and having our pockets 
picked, are not what I call adventures. I wish 
there were brigands in Germany — it needs 
something of that sort to enliven its stupidity.” 

‘‘ How can you call Germany stupid when you 
have a scene like this before you ? ” said Helen, 
with a sigh of pleasure, as she looked from the 
balcony which overhangs the Rhine at the hotel 
of the Three Kings ” at Coblentz. Ehren- 
breitstein towered opposite, the broad river glit- 
tered below, and a midsummer moon lent its 
enchantment to the landscape. 

As she spoke, her companion half rose from 


i8o 


Proverb Stories 


the low chair where she lounged, and showed 
the pretty, piquant face of a young girl. She 
seemed in a half melancholy, half petulant mood ; 
and traces of recent illness were visible in the 
languor of her movements and the pallor of her 
cheeks. 

Yes, it is lovely; but I want adventures and 
romance of some sort to make it quite perfect. 
I don’t care what, if something would only hap- 
pen.” 

“ My dear, you are out of spirits and weary 
now, to-morrow you ’ll be yourself again. Do 
not be ungrateful to uncle or unjust to yourself. 
Something pleasant will happen, I ’ve no doubt. 
In fact, something has happened that you may 
make a little romance out of, perhaps, for lack 
of a more thrilling adventure.” 

‘‘What do you mean?” and Amy’s listless 
face brightened. 

“ Speak low; there are balconies all about us, 
and we may be overheard,” said Helen, drawing 
nearer after an upward glance. 

“ What is the beginning of a romance ? ” whis- 
pered Amy, eagerly. 

“ A pair of gloves. Just now, as I stood here, 
and you lay with your eyes shut, these dropped 
from the balcony overhead. Now amuse your- 
self by weaving a romance out of them and their 
owner.” 

Amy seized them, and stepping inside the win- 
dow, examined them by the candle. 


The Baron’s Gloves i8i 

“ A gentleman's gloves, scented with violets ! 
Here 's a little hole fretted by a ring on the third 
finger. Bless me ! here are the initials, ‘ S. P./ 
stamped on the inside, with a coat of arms below. 
What a fop to get up his gloves in this style! 
They are exquisite, though. Such a delicate 
color, so little soiled, and so prettily ornamented ! 
Handsome hands wore these. I 'd like to see the 
man." 

Helen laughed at the girl’s interest, and was 
satisfied if any trifle amused her ennui. 

“ I will send them back by the kellner, and in 
that way we may discover their owner," she said. 

But Amy arrested her on the way to the door. 

‘‘ I ’ve a better plan ; these waiters are so 
stupid you ’ll get nothing out of them. Here ’s 
the hotel book sent up for our names ; let us look 
among the day’s arrivals and see who ‘ S. P.’ is. 
He came to-day, I ’m sure, for the man said the 
rooms above were just taken, so we could not 
have them." 

Opening the big book, Amy was soon intently 
poring over the long list of names, written in 
many hands and many languages. 

“ I ’ve got it ! Here he is — oh, Nell, he ’s 
a baron! Isn’t that charming? ‘ Sigismund 
von Palsdorf, Dresden.’ We must see him, for 
I know he ’s handsome, if he wears such dis- 
tracting gloves." 

“ You ’d better take them up yourself, then.” 

‘‘You know I can’t do that; but I shall ask 


102 Proverb Stories 

the man a few questions, just to get an idea what 
sort of person the baron is. Then I shall change 
my mind and go down to dinner ; shall look well 
about me, and if the baron is agreeable I shall 
make uncle return the gloves. He will thank 
us, and I can say I Ve known a real baron. That 
will be so nice when we go home. Now, don’t 
be duennaish and say I ’m silly, but let me do as 
I like, and come and dress.” 

Helen submitted, and when the gong pealed 
through the house, Major Erskine marched into 
the great salle d manger, with a comely niece on 
each arm. The long tables were crowded, and 
they had to run the gauntlet of many eyes as 
they made their way to the head of the upper 
table. Before she touched her soup, Amy 
glanced down the line of faces opposite, and find- 
ing none that answered the slight description 
elicited from the waiter, she leaned a little for- 
ward to examine those on her own side of the 
table. Some way down sat several gentlemen, 
and as she bent to observe them, one did the 
same, and she received an admiring glance from 
a pair of fine black eyes. Somewhat abashed, 
she busied herself with her soup; but the fancy 
had taken possession of her, and presently she 
whispered to Helen, — 

'' Do you see any signs of the baron ? ” 

On my left; look at the hands.” 

Amy looked and saw a white, shapely hand 
with an antique ring on the third finger. Its 


The Baron’s Gloves 183 

owner’s face was averted, but as he conversed 
with animation, the hand was in full play, now 
emphasizing an opinion, now lifting a glass, or 
more frequently pulling at a blond beard which 
adorned the face of the unknown. Amy shook 
her head decidedly. 

“ I hate light men, and don’t think that is the 
baron, for the gloves are a size too small for 
those hands. Lean back and look some four or 
five seats lower down on the right. See what 
sort of person the dark man with the fine eyes 
is.” 

Helen obeyed, but almost instantly bent to her 
plate again, smiling in spite of herself. 

“ That is an Englishman ; he stares rudely, 
says ‘ By Jove ! ’ and wears no jewelry or beard.” 

‘‘ Now, I ’m disappointed. Well, keep on the 
watch, and tell me if you make any discoveries, 
for I will find the baron.” 

Being hungry, Amy devoted herself to her 
dinner, till dessert was on the table. She was 
languidly eating grapes, while Helen talked with 
the major, when the word “ baron ” caught her 
ear. The speakers sat at a table behind her, so 
that she could not see them without turning 
quite round, which was impossible; but she lis- 
tened eagerly to the following scrap of chat : — 

“ Is the baron going on to-morrow ? ” asked 
a gay voice in French. 

‘‘ Yes, he is bound for Baden-Baden. The 
season is at its height, and he must make his 


184 Proverb Stories 

game while the ball is rolling, or it is all up with 
the open-handed Sigismund/' answered a rough 
voice. 

** Won’t his father pardon the last escapade ? ” 
asked a third, with a laugh. 

** No, and he is right. The duel was a bad 
affair, for the man almost died, and the baron 
barely managed to get out of the scrape through 
court influence. When is the wedding to be ? ” 

“ Never, Palsdorf says. There is everything 
but love in the bargain, and he swears he ’ll not 
agree to it. I like that.” 

‘‘ There is much nobleness in him, spite of his 
vagaries. He will sow his wild oats and make 
a grand man in time. By the by, if we are going 
to the fortress, we must be off. Give Sigismund 
the word; he is dining at the other table with 
Power,” said the gay voice. 

“ Take a look at the pretty English girl as 
you go by; it will do your eyes good, after the 
fat Frauleins we have seen of late,” added the 
rough one. 

Three gentlemen rose, and as they passed Amy 
stole a glance at them; but seeing several pairs 
of eyes fixed on herself, she turned away blush- 
ing, with the not unpleasant consciousness that 
the pretty English girl ” was herself. Longing 
to see which Sigismund was, she ventured to 
look after the young men, who paused behind the 
man with the blond beard, and also touched the 
dark-eyed gentleman on the shoulder. All five 


The Baron’s Gloves 185 

went down the hall and stood talking near the 
door. 

“ Uncle, I wish to go,*’ said Amy, whose will 
was law to the amiable major. Up he rose, and 
Amy added, as she took his arm, I 'm seized 
with a longing to go to Baden-Baden and see 
a little gambling. You are not a wild young 
man, so you can be trusted there.” 

‘‘ I hope so. Now you are a sensible little 
woman, and we *11 do our best to have a gay 
time. Wait an instant till I get my hat.** 

While the major searched for the missing 
article the girls went on, and coming to the door, 
Amy tried to open it. The unwieldy foreign lock 
resisted her efforts, and she was just giving it 
an impatient little shake, when a voice said be- 
hind her, — 

‘‘ Permit me, mademoiselle ; ** at the same mo- 
ment a handsome hand turned the latch, the flash 
of a diamond shone before her, and the door 
opened. 

Merci, monsieur/' she murmured, turning 
as she went out ; but Helen was close behind her, 
and no one else to be seen except the massive 
major in the rear. 

“ Did you see the baron ? ** she whispered 
eagerly, as they went up-stairs. 

“ No; where was he? ** 

“ He opened the door for me. I knew him 
by his hand and ring. He was close to you.** 

I did not observe him, being busy gathering 


i86 Proverb Stories 

up my dress. I thought the person was a waiter, 
and never looked at him/' said Helen, with pro- 
voking indifference. 

How unfortunate ! Uncle, you are going to 
see the fortress; we don’t care for it; but I 
want you to take these gloves and inquire for 
Baron Sigismund Palsdorf. He will be there 
with a party of gentlemen. You can easily man- 
age it, men are so free and easy. Mind what 
he is like, and come home in time to tell me all 
about it.” 

Away went the major, and the cousins sat on 
the balcony enjoying the lovely night, admiring 
the picturesque scene, and indulging in the flights 
of fancy all girls love, for Helen, in spite of her 
three-and-twenty years, was as romantic as Amy 
at eighteen. It was past eleven when the major 
came, and the only greeting he received was the 
breathless question, — 

‘‘ Did you find him ? ” 

‘‘ I found something much better than any 
baron, a courier. I ’ve wanted one ever since 
we started; for two young ladies and their bag- 
gage are more than one man can do his duty by. 
Karl Hoffman had such excellent testimonials 
from persons I know, that I did not hesitate to 
engage him, and he comes to-morrow ; so hence- 
forth I ’ve nothing to do but devote myself to 
you.” 

“ How very provoking ! Did you bring the 
gloves back?” asked Amy, still absorbed in the 
baron. 



SHg woUg to find. tliG 3.ir full of music. 


Page 187 . 




The Baron’s Gloves 187 

The major tossed them to her, and indulged in 
a hearty laugh at her girlish regrets; then bade 
them good-night, and went away to give orders 
for an early start next morning. 

Tired of talking, the girls lay down in the 
two little white beds always found in German 
hotels, and Amy was soon continuing in sleep 
the romance she had begun awake. She dreamed 
that the baron proved to be the owner of the 
fine eyes; that he wooed and won her, and they 
were floating down the river to the chime of 
wedding-bells. 

At this rapturous climax she woke to find the 
air full of music, and to see Helen standing tall 
and white in the moonlight that streamed in at 
the open window. 

‘‘ Hush, hide behind the curtains and listen ; 
it 's a serenade,'’ whispered Helen, as Amy stole 
to her side. 

Shrouded in the drapery, they leaned and 
listened till the song ended, then Amy peeped; 
a dark group stood below; all were bareheaded, 
and now seemed whispering together. Pres- 
ently a single voice rose, singing an exquisite 
little French canzonet, the refrain of which was 
a passionate repetition of the word Amie/^ 
She thought she recognized the voice, and the 
sound of her own name uttered in such ardent 
tones made her heart beat and her color rise, for 
it seemed to signify that the serenade was for 
them. As the last melodious murmur ceased. 


1 8 8 Proverb Stories 

there came a stifled laugh from below, and some- 
thing fell into the balcony. Neither dared stir 
till the sound of departing feet reassured them; 
then creeping forward Amy drew in a lovely 
bouquet of myrtle, roses, and great German for- 
get-me-nots, tied with a white ribbon and ad- 
dressed in a dashing hand to La belle Helene. 

‘‘ Upon my life, the romance has begun in 
earnest,'* laughed Helen, as she examined the 
flowers. “ You are serenaded by some unknown 
nightingale, and I have flowers tossed up to me 
in the charming old style. Of course it is the 
baron, Amy." 

‘‘ I hope so ; but whoever it is, they are reg- 
ular troubadours, and I 'm delighted. I know the 
gloves will bring us fun of some kind. Do you 
take one and I '11 take the other, and see who 
will find the baron first. Is n't it odd that they 
knew our names ? " 

“ Amy, the writing on this card is very like 
that in the big book. I may be bewitched by this 
mid-summer moonlight, but it really is very like 
it. Come and see." 

The two charming heads bent over the card, 
looking all the more charming for the dishevelled 
curls and braids that hung about them as the 
girls laughed and whispered together in the 
softly brilliant light that filled the room. 

*‘You are right; it is the same. The men 
who stared so at dinner are gay students perhaps, 
and ready for any prank. Don’t tell uncle, but 


The Baron’s Gloves 189 

let us see what will come of it. I begin to enjoy 
myself heartily now — don't you ? " said Amy, 
laying her glove carefully away. 

‘‘ I enjoyed myself before, but I think ' La 
belle Helene * gives an added relish to life, 
Amie” laughed Nell, putting her flowers in 
water ; and then both went back to their pillows, 
to dream delightfully till morning. 


II 


KARL, THE COURIER 

HREE days, at least, before we reach 



Baden. How tiresome it is that uncle 


won’t go faster ! ” said Amy, as she tied 


on her hat next morning, wondering as she did so 
if the baron would take the same boat. 

‘‘As adventures have begun, I feel assured 
that they will continue to cheer the way; so 
resign yourself and be ready for anything,” re- 
plied Helen, carefully arranging her bouquet in 
her travelling-basket. 

A tap at the door, which stood half open, made 
both look up. A tall, brown, gentlemanly man, 
in a gray suit, with a leathern bag slung over his 
shoulder, stood there, hat in hand, and meeting 
Helen’s eyes, bowed respectfully, saying in good 
English, but with a strong German accent, — 

“ Ladies, the major desired me to tell you the 
carriage waits.” 

“ Why, who — ” began Amy, staring with her 
blue eyes full of wonder at the stranger. 

He bowed again, and said, simply, — 


The Baron’s Gloves 191 

Karl Hoffman, at your service, mademoi- 
selle.” 

The courier — oh, yes ! I forgot all about 
it. Please take these things.” 

Amy began to hand him her miscellaneous 
collection of bags, books, shawls and cushions. 

“ I M no idea couriers were such decent crea- 
tures,” whispered Amy, as they followed him 
along the hall. 

Don’t you remember the raptures Mrs. Mor- 
timer used to have over their Italian courier, 
and her funny description of him? ‘Beautiful 
to behold, with a night of hair, eyes full of an 
infinite tenderness, and a sumptuous cheek.’ ” 

Both girls laughed, and Amy averred that 
Karl’s eyes danced with merriment as he glanced 
over his shoulder, as the silvery peal sounded 
behind him. 

“ Hush ! he understands English ; we must 
be careful,” said Helen, and neither spoke again 
till they reached the carriage. 

Everything was ready, and as they drove 
away, the major, leaning luxuriously back, ex- 
claimed, — 

“Now I begin to enjoy travelling, for I ’m 
no longer worried by the thought of luggage, 
time-tables, trains, and the everlasting perplexity 
of thalers, kreutzers, and pfenniges. This man 
is a treasure; everything is done in the best 
manner, and his knowledge of matters is really 
amazing.” 


192 Proverb Stories 

“ He *s a very gentlemanly-looking person,” 
said Amy, eying a decidedly aristocratic foot 
through the front window of the carriage, for 
Karl sat up beside the driver. 

“ He is a gentleman, my dear. Many of these 
couriers are well born and educated, but, being 
poor, prefer this business to any other, as it gives 
them variety, and often pleasant society. I Ve 
had a long talk with Hoffman, and find him an 
excellent and accomplished fellow. He has lost 
his fortune, it seems, through no fault of his 
own, so being fond of a roving life, turned 
courier for a time, and we are fortunate to have 
secured him.” 

“ But one does n’t know how to treat him,” 
said Helen. ** I don’t like to address him as a 
servant, and yet it ’s not pleasant to order a gen- 
tleman about.” 

Oh, it will be easy enough as we go on to- 
gether. Just call him Hoffman, and behave as 
if you knew nothing about his past. He begged 
me not to mention it, but I thought you ’d like 
the romance of the thing. Only don’t either of 
you run away with him, as Ponsonby’s daughter 
did with her courier, who was n’t a gentleman, 
by the way.” 

Not handsome enough,” said Amy. ‘‘ I 
don’t like blue eyes and black hair. His manners 
are nice, but he looks like a gipsy, with his brown 
face and black beard: doesn’t he, Nell?” 

“ Not at all. Gipsies have n’t that style of 


The Baron’s Gloves 193 

face; they are thin, sharp, and cunning in fea- 
ture as in nature. Hoffman has large, well- 
moulded features, and a mild, manly expression, 
which gives one confidence in him.’’ 

He has a keen, wicked look in his blue eyes, 
as you will see, Nell. I mean mischievously, 
not malignantly wicked. He likes fun, I ’m sure, 
for he laughed about the ‘ sumptuous cheek ’ 
till his own were red, though he dared not show 
it, and was as grave as an owl when we met 
uncle,” said Amy, smiling at the recollection. 

‘‘We shall go by boat to Biebrich, and then 
by rail to Heidelberg. We shall get in late to- 
morrow night, but can rest a day, and then on 
to Baden. Here we are; now make yourselves 
easy, as I do, and let Karl take care of every- 
thing.” 

And putting his hands in his pockets, the 
major strolled about the boat, while the courier 
made matters comfortable for the day. So eas- 
ily and well did he do his duty, that both girls 
enjoyed watching him after he had established 
them on the shady side of the boat, with camp- 
stools for their feet, cushions to lean on, books 
and bags laid commodiously at hand. 

As they sailed up the lovely Rhine they grew 
more and more enthusiastic in their admiration 
and curiosity, and finding the meagre descrip- 
tion of the guide-books very unsatisfactory, Amy 
begged her uncle to tell her all the legends of 
picturesque ruin, rock and river, as they passed. 


194 Proverb Stories 

“ Bless me, child, I know nothing; but here ’s 
Hoffman, a German born, who will tell you 
everything, I dare say. Karl, what 's that old 
castle up there? The young ladies want to know 
about it.’' 

Leaning on the railing, Hoffman told the story 
so well that he was kept explaining and describ- 
ing for an hour, and when he went away to order 
lunch, Amy declared it was as pleasant as read- 
ing fairy tales to listen to his dramatic histories 
and legends. 

At lunch the major was charmed to find his 
favorite wines and dishes without any need of 
consulting dictionary or phrase-book beforehand, 
or losing his temper in vain attempts to make 
himself understood. 

On reaching Biebrich, tired and hungry, at 
nightfall, everything was ready for them, and all 
went to bed praising Karl, the courier, though 
Amy, with unusual prudence, added, — 

He is a new broom now ; let us wait a little 
before we judge.” 

All went well next day till nightfall, when a 
most untoward accident occurred, and Helen’s 
adventures began in earnest. The three occupied 
a coupe, and being weary with long sitting, 
Helen got out at one of the stations where the 
train paused for ten minutes. A rosy sunset 
tempted her to the end of the platform, and there 
she found, what nearly all foreign railway sta- 
tions possess, a charming little garden. 


The Baron’s Gloves 195 

Amy was very tired, rather cross, and pas- 
sionately fond of flowers, so when an old woman 
offered to pull a nosegay for the gracious 
lady,” Helen gladly waited for it, hoping to 
please the invalid. Twice the whistle warned 
her, and at last she ran back, but only in time 
to see the train move away, with her uncle ges- 
ticulating wildly to the guard, who shook his 
stupid German head, and refused to see the dis- 
mayed young lady imploring him to wait for 
her. 

Just as the train was vanishing from the sta- 
tion, a man leaped from a second-class carriage 
at the risk of his neck, and hurried back to find 
Helen looking pale and bewildered, as well she 
might, left alone and moneyless at night in a 
strange town. 

“ Mademoiselle, it is I ; rest easy ; we can 
soon go on ; a train passes in two hours, and we 
can telegraph to Heidelberg that they may not 
fear for you.” 

“ Oh, Hoffman, how kind of you to stop for 
me! What should I have done without you, for 
uncle takes care of all the money, and I have 
only my watch.” 

Helen’s usual self-possession rather failed her 
in the flurry of the moment, and she caught 
Karl’s arm with a feminine little gesture of con- 
fidence very pleasant to see. Leading her to the 
waiting-room, he ordered supper, and put her 
into the care of the woman of the place, while 


196 Proverb Stories 

he went to make inquiries and dispatch the tele- 
gram. In half an hour he returned, finding 
Helen refreshed and cheerful, though a trace 
of anxiety was still visible in her watchful eyes. 

“ All goes excellently, mademoiselle. I have 
sent word to several posts along the road that 
we are coming by the night train, so that Mon- 
sieur le Major will rest tranquil till we meet. 
It is best that I give you some money, lest such 
a mishap should again occur; it is not likely 
so soon; nevertheless, here is both gold and 
silver. With this, one can make one’s way 
everywhere. Now, if mademoiselle will permit 
me to advise, she will rest for an hour, as we 
must travel till dawn. I will keep guard with- 
out and watch for the train.” 

He left her, and having made herself com- 
fortable on one of the sofas, she lay watching 
the tall shadow pass and repass door and win- 
dow, as Karl marched up and down the platform, 
with the tireless tramp of a sentinel on duty. A 
pleasant sense of security stole over her, and 
with a smile at Amy’s enjoyment of the adven- 
ture when it was over, Helen fell asleep. 

A far-off shriek half woke her, and starting 
up, she turned to meet the courier coming in to 
wake her. Up thundered the train, every car- 
riage apparently full of sleepy passengers, and the 
guard in a state of sullen wrath at some delay, 
the consequences of which would fall heaviest 
on him. 


The Baron’s Gloves 197 

From carriage to carriage hurried Karl and 
his charge, to be met with everywhere by the 
cry, All full,” in many languages, and with 
every aspect of inhospitality. One carriage only 
showed two places; the other seats were occu- 
pied by six students, who gallantly invited the 
lady to enter. But Helen shrunk back, say- 
ing, — 

‘‘ Is there no other place? ” 

‘‘None, mademoiselle; this, or remain till 
morning,” said Karl. 

“ Where will you go if I take this place? ” 

“ Among the luggage, — anywhere ; it is 
nothing. But we must decide at once.” 

“ Come with me; I ’m afraid to be locked in 
here alone,” said Helen, desperately. 

“ Mademoiselle forgets I am her courier.” 

“ I do not forget that you are a gentleman. 
Pray come in; my uncle will thank you.” 

“ I will,” and with a sudden brightening of 
the eyes, a grateful glance, and an air of re- 
doubled respect, Hoffman followed her into the 
carriage. 

They were off at once, and the thing was done 
before Helen had time to feel anything but the 
relief which the protection of his presence af- 
forded her. 

The young gentlemen stared at the veiled lady 
and her grim escort, joked under their breath, 
and looked wistfully at the suppressed cigars, 
but behaved with exemplary politeness till sleep 


198 Proverb Stories 

overpowered them, and one after the other 
dropped off asleep to dream of their respective 
Gretchens. 

Helen could not sleep, and for hours sat study- 
ing the unconscious faces before her, the dim 
landscape flying past the windows, or forgot 
herself in reveries. 

Hoffman remained motionless and silent, ex- 
cept when she addressed him, wakeful also, and 
assiduous in making the long night as easy as 
possible. 

It was past midnight, and Helen’s heavy eye- 
lids were beginning to droop, when suddenly 
there came an awful crash, a pang of mortal 
fear, then utter oblivion. 

As her senses returned she found herself lying 
in a painful position under what had been the 
roof of the car ; something heavy weighed down 
her lower limbs, and her dizzy brain rung with 
a wild uproar of shrieks and groans, eager 
voices, the crash of wood and iron, and the shrill 
whistle of the engine, as it rushed away for help. 

Through the darkness she heard the pant as 
of some one struggling desperately, then a cry 
close by her, followed by a strong voice exclaim- 
ing, in an agony of suspense, — 

“ My God, will no one come ! ” 

‘‘Hoffman, are you there?” cried Helen, 
groping in the gloom, with a thrill of joy at 
the sound of a familiar voice. 

“Thank heaven, you are safe. Lie still. I 


The Baron’s Gloves 199 

will save you. Help is coming. Have no fear! 
panted the voice, with an undertone of fervent 
gratitude in its breathless accents. 

“ What has happened ? Where are the rest ? ** 
We have been thrown down an embank- 
ment. The lads are gone for help. God only 
knows what harm is done.'^ 

Karl’s voice died in a stifled groan, and Helen 
cried out in alarm, — 

“ Where are you? You are hurt? ” 

‘‘ Not much. I keep the ruins from falling 
in to crush us. Be quiet, they are coming.” 

A shout answered the faint halloo he gave as 
if to guide them to the spot, and a moment after, 
five of the students were swarming about the 
wreck, intent on saving the three whose lives 
were still in danger. 

A lamp torn from some demolished carriage 
was held through an opening, and Helen saw a 
sight that made her blood chill in her veins. 
Across her feet, crushed and bleeding, lay the 
youngest of the students, and kneeling close 
beside him was Hoffman, supporting by main 
strength a mass of timber, which otherwise 
would fall and crush 'them all. His face was 
ghastly pale, his eyes haggard with pain and sus- 
pense, and great drops stood upon his forehead. 
But as she looked, he smiled with a cheery, — 
Bear up, dear lady, we shall soon be out of 
danger. Now, lads, work with a will; my 
strength is going fast.” 


200 Proverb Stories 

They did work like heroes, and even in her 
pain and peril, Helen admired the skill, energy, 
and courage of the young men, who, an hour 
ago, had seemed to have no ideas above pipes 
and beer. Soon Hoffman was free, the poor 
senseless youth lifted out, and then, as tenderly 
as if she were a child, they raised and set her 
down, faint but unhurt, in a wide meadow, al- 
ready strewn with sad tokens of the wreck. 

Karl was taken possession of as well as her- 
self, forced to rest a moment, drink a cordial 
draught from some one’s flask, and be praised, 
embraced, and enthusiastically blessed by the 
impetuous youths. 

“ Where is the boy who was hurt ? Bring 
him to me. I am strong now. I want to help. 
I have salts in my pocket, and I can bind up his 
wounds,” said Helen, soon herself again. 

Karl and Helen soon brought back life and 
sense to the boy, and never had human face 
looked so lovely as did Helen’s to the anxious 
comrades when she looked up in the moonlight 
with a joyful smile, and softly whispered, — 

‘‘ He is alive.” 

For an hour terrible confusion reigned, then 
the panic subsided a little, and such of the car- 
riages as were whole were made ready to carry 
away as many as possible ; the rest must wait till 
a return train could be sent for them. 

A struggle of course ensued, for every one 
wished to go on, and fear made many selfish. 


The Baron’s Gloves 20 1 

The wounded, the women and children, were 
taken, as far as possible, and the laden train 
moved away, leaving many anxious watchers be- 
hind. 

Helen had refused to go, and had given her 
place to poor Conrad, thereby overwhelming his 
brother and comrades with gratitude. Two went 
on with the wounded lad; the rest remained, 
and chivalrously devoted themselves to Helen as 
a body-guard. 

The moon shone clearly, the wide field was 
miles from any hamlet, and a desolate silence 
succeeded to the late uproar, as the band of wait- 
ers roamed about, longing for help and dawn. 

‘‘ Mademoiselle, you shiver; the dew falls, and 
it is damp here; we must have a fire; ” and Karl 
was away to a neighboring hedge, intent on 
warming his delicate charge if he felled a forest 
to do it. 

The students rushed after him, and soon re- 
turned in triumph to build a glorious fire, which 
drew all forlorn wanderers to its hospitable circle. 
A motley assemblage; but mutual danger and 
discomfort produced mutual sympathy and good 
will, and a general atmosphere of friendship per- 
vaded the party. 

“ Where is the brave Hoffman ? ” asked Wil- 
helm, the blond student, who, being in the Wer- 
ther period of youth, was already madly in love 
with Helen, and sat at her feet catching cold in 
the most romantic manner. 


202 


Proverb Stories 


Behold me ! The little ones cry for hunger, 
so I ransack the ruins and bring away my spoils. 
Eat, Kinder, eat and be patient.” 

As he spoke Karl appeared with an odd col- 
lection of baskets, bags, and bottles, and with a 
fatherly air that won all the mothers, he gave 
the children whatever first appeared, making 
them laugh in spite of weariness and hunger by 
the merry speeches which accompanied his gifts. 

You too need something. Here is your own 
basket with the lunch I ordered you. In a sad 
state of confusion, but still eatable. See, it is 
not bad,” and he deftly spread on a napkin before 
Helen cold chicken, sandwiches, and fruit. 

His care for the little ones as well as for her- 
self touched her and her eyes filled, as she re- 
membered that she owed her life to him, and re- 
called the sight of his face in the overturned car. 

Her voice trembled a little as she thanked him, 
and the moonlight betrayed her wet eyes. He 
fancied she was worn out with excitement and 
fatigue, and anxious to cheer her spirits, he whis- 
pered to Wilhelm and his mates, — 

‘‘ Sing, then, comrades, and while away this 
tedious night. It is hard for all to wait so long, 
and the babies need a lullaby.” 

The young men laughed and sang as only Ger- 
man students can sing, making the night musical 
with blithe drinking songs, tender love-lays, bat- 
tle-hymns, and Volkslieder sweeter than any 
songs across the water. 


The Baron’s Gloves 203 

Every heart was cheered and warmed by the 
magic of the music, the babies fell asleep, stran- 
gers grew friendly, fear changed to courage, and 
the most forlorn felt the romance of that bivouac 
under the summer sky. 

Dawn was reddening the east when a welcome 
whistle broke up the camp. Every one hurried 
to the railway, but Helen paused to gather a 
handful of blue forget-me-nots, saying to Hoff- 
man, who waited with her wraps on his arm, — 

‘‘ It has been a happy night, in spite of the 
danger and discomfort. I shall not soon forget 
it; and take these as a souvenir.” 

He smiled, standing bare-headed in the chilly 
wind, for his hat was lost, his coat torn, hair 
dishevelled, and one hand carelessly bound up in 
his handkerchief. Helen saw these marks of the 
night's labors and perils for the first time, and 
as soon as they were seated desired to see his 
hand. 

‘‘ It is nothing, — a scratch, a mere scratch, I 
give you my word, mademoiselle,” he began, but 
Wilhelm unceremoniously removed the hand- 
kerchief, showing a torn and bleeding hand which 
must have been exquisitely painful. 

Helen turned pale, and with a reproachful 
glance skilfully bound it up again, saying, as she 
handed a silken scarf to Wilhelm, — 

Make of that a sling, please, and put the 
poor hand in it. Care must be taken, or harm 
will come of it.” 


2 04 Proverb Stories 

Hoffman submitted in bashful silence, as if sur- 
prised and touched by the young lady’s interest. 
She saw that, and added gratefully, — 

I do not forget that you saved my life, 
though you seem to have done so. My uncle 
will thank you better than I can.” 

“ I already have my reward, mademoiselle,” 
he returned, with a respectful inclination and a 
look she could neither understand nor forget. 


Ill 

amy’s adventure 

T he excitement and suspense of the major 
and Amy can be imagined when news of 
the accident reached them. Their grati- 
tude and relief were intense when Helen ap- 
peared next morning, with the faithful Hoffman 
still at his post, though no longer able to dis- 
guise the fact that he was suffering from his 
wound. 

When the story had been told, Karl was put 
under the surgeon’s care, and all remained at 
Heidelberg for several days to rest and recover. 

On the afternoon of the last day the major and 
young ladies drove off to the castle for a fare- 
well view. Helen began to sketch the great stone 
lion’s head above the grand terrace, the major 
smoked and chatted with a party of English 
artists whom he had met, and Amy, with a little 
lad for a guide, explored the old castle to her 
heart’s content. 

The sun set, and twilight began to fall when 
Helen put up her pencils, and the major set off 
to find Amy, who had been appearing and dis- 
appearing in every nook and cranny of the half- 
ruined castle. 


2o6 Proverb Stories 

Nowhere could he find her, and no voice an- 
swered when he called. The other visitors were 
gone, and the place seemed deserted, except by 
themselves and the old man who showed the 
ruins. 

Becoming alarmed lest the girl had fallen 
somewhere, or lost her way among the vaults 
where the famous Tun lies, the major called out 
old Hans with his lantern, and searched high and 
low. 

Amy’s hat, full of flowers and ferns, was 
found in the Lady’s Walk, as the little terrace is 
called, but no other trace appeared, and Helen 
•hurried to and fro in great distress, fearing all 
manner of dangers. 

Meanwhile Amy, having explored every other 
part of the castle, went to take another look at 
the Tun, the dwarf, and the vaults. 

Now little Anderl, her guide, had a great fear 
of ghosts, and legions were said to haunt the 
ruins after nightfall, so when Amy rambled on 
deeper and deeper into the gloom the boy’s cour- 
age ebbed away with every step; yet he was 
ashamed to own his fear, seeing that she had 
none. 

Amy wanted to see a certain cell, where a 
nun was said to have pined to death because she 
would not listen to the Margraf’s love. The 
legend pleased the romantic girl, and forgetful 
of waning daylight, gathering damps, and An- 
derl’s reluctant service, she ran on, up steps and 


The Baron’s Gloves 207 

down, delighted with little arched doors, rusty 
chains on the walls, glimpses of sky through 
shattered roofs, and all manner of mysterious 
nooks and corners. Coming at last to a narrow 
cell, with a stone table, and heavy bolts on the 
old door, she felt sure this was poor Elfrida’s 
prison, and called Anderl to come on with his 
candle, for the boy had lighted one, for his own 
comfort rather than hers. Her call was unan- 
swered, and glancing back, she saw the candle 
placed on the ground, but no Anderl. 

Little coward, he has run away,” she said, 
laughing; and having satisfied her curiosity, 
turned to retrace her steps, — no easy task to 
one ignorant of the way, for vault after vault 
opened on both sides, and no path was discerni- 
ble. In vain she tried to recall some landmark, 
the gloom had deepened and nothing was clear. 
On she hurried, but found no opening, and really 
frightened, stopped at last, calling the boy in a 
voice that woke a hundred echoes. But Anderl 
had fled home, thinking the lady would find her 
way back, and preferring to lose his kreutzers to 
seeing a ghost. 

Poor Amy’s bewilderment and alarm increased 
with every moment’s delay, and hoping to come 
out somewhere, she ran on till a misstep jostled 
the candle from her hand and extinguished it. 

Left in the dark, her courage deserted her, and 
she screamed desperately, like a lost child, and 
was fast getting into a state of frantic terror. 


2o8 Proverb Stories 

when the sound of an approaching step reas- 
sured her. 

Holding her breath, she heard a quick tread 
drawing nearer, as if guided by her cries, and, 
straining her eyes, she caught the outline of a 
man’s figure in the gloom. 

A sensation of intense joy rushed over her, 
and she was about to spring forward, when she 
remembered that as she could speak no German 
how could she explain her plight to the stranger, 
if he understood neither French nor English? 

Fear took possession of her at the thought of 
meeting some rough peasant, or some rollicking 
student, to whom she could make no intelligible 
appeal or explanation. 

Crouching close against the wall, she stood 
mute till the figure was very near. She was in 
the shadow of an angle, and the man paused, as 
if looking for the person who called for help. 

Who is lost here ? ” said a clear voice, in 
German. 

Amy shrunk closer to the wall, fearing to 
speak, for the voice was that of a young man, 
and a low laugh followed the words, as if the 
speaker found the situation amusing. 

‘‘ Mortal, ghost or devil, I ’ll find it,” ex- 
claimed the voice, and stepping forward, a hand 
groped for and found her. 

‘‘ Lottchen, is it thou ? Little rogue, thou 
shalt pay dearly for leading me such a chase.” 

As he spoke he drew the girl toward him, but 


The Baron’s Gloves 209 

with a faint cry, a vain effort to escape, Amy's 
terror reached its climax, and spent with fatigue 
and excitement, she lost consciousness. 

“ Who the deuce is it, then ? Lottchen never 
faints on a frolic. Some poor little girl lost in 
earnest. I must get her out of this gloomy place 
at once, and find her party afterward." 

Lifting the slight figure in his arms, the young 
man hurried on, and soon came out through a 
shattered gateway into the shrubbery which sur- 
rounds the base of the castle. 

Laying her on the grass, he gently chafed her 
hands, eying the pale, pretty face meantime with 
the utmost solicitude. 

At his first glimpse of it he had started, smiled 
and made a gesture of pleasure and surprise, 
then gave himself entirely to the task of recov- 
ering the poor girl whom he had frightened out 
of her senses. 

Very soon she looked up with dizzy eyes, and 
clasping her hands imploringly, cried, in English, 
like a bewildered child, — 

I am lost ! Oh, take me to my uncle." 

** I will, the moment you can walk. Upon my 
soul, I meant to help you when I followed; but 
as you did not answer, I fancied it was Lottchen, 
the keeper's little girl. Pardon the fright I 've 
caused you, and let me take you to your friends." 

The true English accent of the words, and the 
hearty tone of sincerity in the apology, reassured 
Amy at once, and, rising, she said, with a faint 
smile and a petulant tone, — 


2 10 


Proverb Stories 


“ I was very silly, but my guide ran away, my 
candle went out, I lost the path, and can speak 
no German; so I was afraid to answer you at 
first ; and then I lost my wits altogether, for it 's 
rather startling to be clutched in the dark, sir.” 

“ Indeed it is. I was very thoughtless, but now 
let me atone for it. Where is your uncle. Miss 
Erskine?” asked the stranger, with respectful 
earnestness. 

“You know my name?” cried Amy in her 
impulsive way. 

“ I have that happiness,” was the answer, with 
a smile. 

“ But I don’t know you, sir ; ” and she peered 
at him, trying to see his face in the darkness, 
for the copse was thick, and twilight had come 
on rapidly. 

“Not yet; I live in hope. Shall we go? 
Your uncle will be uneasy.” 

“ Where are we ? ” asked Amy, glad to move 
on, for the interview was becoming too personal 
even for her, and the stranger’s manner fluttered 
her, though she enjoyed the romance of the ad- 
venture immensely. 

“We are in the park which surrounds the 
castle. You were near the entrance to it from 
the vaults when you fainted.” 

“ I wish I had kept on a little longer, and not 
disgraced myself by such a panic.” 

“ Nay, that is a cruel wish, for then I should 
have lost the happiness of helping you.” 


The Baron’s Gloves 2 1 1 

They had been walking side by side, but were 
forced to pause on reaching a broken flight of 
steps, for Amy could not see the way before her. 

Let me lead you ; it is steep and dark, but 
better than going a long way round through the 
dew,” he said, offering his hand. 

“ Must we return by these dreadful vaults?” 
faltered Amy, shrinking back. 

‘‘ It is the shortest and safest route, I assure 
you.” 

“ Are you sure you know the way? ” 

‘‘ Quite sure. I have lived here by the week 
together. Do you fear to trust me ? ” 

‘‘No; but it is so dark, and everything is so 
strange to me. Can we get down safely? I see 
nothing but a black pit.” 

And Amy still hesitated, with an odd mixture 
of fear and coquetry. 

“ I brought you up in safety ; shall I take you 
down again ? ” asked the stranger, with a smile 
flickering over his face. 

Amy felt rather than saw it, and assuming an 
air of dignified displeasure, motioned him to pro- 
ceed, which he did for three steps; then Amy 
slipped, and gladly caught at the arm extended 
to save her. 

Without a word he took her hand and led her 
back through the labyrinth she had threaded in 
her bewilderment. A dim light filled the place, 
but with unerring steps her guide went on till 
they emerged into the courtyard. 


2 12 Proverb Stories 

Major Erskine's voice was audible, giving di- 
rections to the keeper, and Helen's figure visible 
as she groped among the shadows of the ruined 
chapel for her cousin. 

“ There are my friends. Now I am safe. 
Come and let them thank you," cried Amy, in 
her frank, childlike warmth of manner. 

“ I want no thanks — forgive me — adieu," 
and hastily kissing the little hand that had lain 
so confidingly in his, the stranger was gone. 

Amy rushed at once to Helen, and when the 
lost lamb had been welcomed, chidden, and ex- 
ulted over, they drove home, listening to the very 
brief account which Amy gave of her adventure. 

‘‘ Naughty little gad-about, how could you go 
and terrify me so, wandering in vaults with mys- 
terious strangers, like the Countess of Rudol- 
stadt. You are as wet and dirty as if you had 
been digging a well, yet you look as if you liked 
it," said Helen, as she led Amy into their room 
at the hotel. 

“ I do," was the decided answer, as the girl 
pulled a handkerchief off her head, and began 
to examine the corners of it. Suddenly she ut- 
tered a cry and flew to the light, exclaiming, — 

‘‘Nell, Nell, look here! The same letters, 
‘ S. P.,' the same coat of arms, the same perfume 
— it was the baron I " 

“What? who? are you out of your mind?" 
said Helen, examining the large, fine cambric 
handkerchief, with its delicately stamped initials 


The Baron’s Gloves 213 

under the stag’s head, and three stars on a heart- 
shaped shield. ‘‘Where did you get it?” she 
added, as she inhaled the soft odor of violets 
shaken from its folds. 

Amy blushed and answered shyly, “ I did n’t 
tell you all that happened before uncle, but now 
I will. My hat was left behind, and when I re- 
covered my wits after my fright, I found this tied 
over my head. Oh, Nell, it was very charming 
there in that romantic old park, and going 
through the vaults with him, and having my 
hand kissed at parting. No one ever did that 
before, and I like it.” 

Amy glanced at her hand as she spoke, and 
stood staring as if struck dumb, for there on her 
forefinger shone a ring she had never seen before. 

“ Look ! look ! mine is gone, and this in its 
place! Oh, Nell, what shall I do?” she said, 
looking half frightened, half pleased. 

Helen examined the ring and shook her head, 
for it was far more valuable than the little pearl 
one which it replaced. Two tiny hands of finest 
gold were linked together about a diamond of 
great brilliancy; and on the inside appeared 
again the initials, “ S. P.” 

“ How did it happen ? ” she asked, rather 
sternly. 

“ Upon my word, I don’t know, unless he put 
it on while I was stupidly fainting. Rude man, 
to take advantage of me so. But, Nell, it is 
splendid, and what shall I do about it ? ” 


214 Proverb Stories 

Tell uncle^ find out the man and send back 
his things. It really is absurd, the manner in 
which German boys behave ; ” and Helen 
frowned, though she was strongly tempted to 
laugh at the whole thing. 

** He was neither a German nor a boy, but 
an English gentleman, I ’m sure,” began Amy, 
rather offended. 

But ‘ S. P.' is a baron, you know, unless 
there are two Richmonds in the field,” broke in 
Helen. 

I forgot that ; never mind, it deepens the 
mystery ; and after this performance, I ’m pre- 
pared for any enormity. It 's my fate ; I submit,” 
said Amy, tragically, as she waved her hand 
to and fro, pleased with the flash of the ring. 

Amy, I think on the whole I won’t speak to 
uncle. He is quick to take offence, especially 
where we are concerned. He does n’t understand 
foreign ways, and may get into trouble. We 
will manage it quietly ourselves.” 

How, Nell?” 

Karl is discreet ; we will merely say we 
found these things and wish to discover the 
owner. He may know this ‘ S. P.’ and, having 
learned his address, we can send them back. The 
man will understand; and as we leave to-mor- 
row, we shall be out of the way before he can 
play any new prank.” 

‘‘ Have in Karl at once, for if I wear this lovely 
thing long I shall not be able to let it go at all. 


The Baron’s Gloves 215 

How dared the creature take such a liberty! ” and 
Amy pulled off the ring with an expression of 
great scorn. 

“ Come into the salon and see what Karl says 
to the matter. Let me speak, or you will say too 
much. One must be prudent before — 

She was going to say “ servants,” but checked 
herself, and substituted “ strangers,” remember- 
ing gratefully how much she owed this man. 

Hoffman came, looking pale, and with his hand 
in a sling, but was as gravely devoted as ever, 
and listened to Helen's brief story with serious 
attention. 

“ I will inquire, mademoiselle, and let you 
know at once. It is easy to find persons if one 
has a clue. May I see the handkerchief ? ” 

Helen showed it. He glanced at the initials, 
and laid it down with a slight smile. 

The coat-of-arms is English, mademoiselle.” 

** Are you sure ? ” 

Quite so ; I understand heraldry.” 

“ But the initials stand for Sigismund Pals- 
dorf, and we know he is a German baron,” broke 
in Amy, forgetting prudence in eagerness. 

“ If mademoiselle knows the name and title 
of this gentleman it will not be hard to find him.” 

‘‘ We only fancy it is the same because of the 
initials. I dare say it is a mistake, and the man 
is English. Inquire quietly, Hoffman, if you 
please, as this ring is of value, and I wish to re- 
store it to its owner,” said Helen, rather sharply. 


2i6 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ I shall do so, mademoiselle,’’ and with his 
gentlemanly bow, the courier left the room. 

“ Bless me, what ’s that ? ” cried Amy, a mo- 
ment afterward, as a ringing laugh echoed 
through the corridor, — a laugh so full of hearty 
and infectious merriment that both girls smiled 
involuntarily, and Amy peeped out to see who 
the blithe personage might be. 

An old gentleman was entering his room near 
by, and Karl was just about to descend the stairs. 
Both looked back at the girlish face peeping at 
them, but both were quite grave, and the peal of 
laughter remained a mystery, like all the rest 
of it. 

Late in the evening Hoffman returned to re- 
port that a party of young Englishmen had vis- 
ited the castle that afternoon, and had left by the 
evening train. One of them had been named 
Samuel Peters, and he, doubtless, was the owner 
of the ring. 

A humorous expression lurked in the courier’s 
eye as he made his report, and heard Amy ex- 
claim, in a tone of disgust and comical despair, — 
Samuel Peters ! That spoils all the romance 
and dims the beauty of the diamond. To think 
that a Peters should be the hero to whom I owe 
my safety, and a Samuel should leave me this 
token of regard ! ” 

Hush, Amy,” whispered Helen. ‘‘ Thanks, 
Hoffman ; we must wait now for chance to help 
us.” 


IV 

A POLISH EXILE 

V ^ OOM for one here, sir/^ said the guard, 

1^ as the train stopped at Carlsruhe next 
^ day, on its way from Heidelberg to 
Baden. 

The major put down his guide-book, Amy 
opened her eyes, and Helen removed her shawl 
from the opposite seat, as a young man, wrapped 
in a cloak, with a green shade over his eyes, and 
a general air of feebleness, got in and sank back 
with a sigh of weariness or pain. Evidently an 
invalid, for his face was thin and pale, his dark 
hair cropped short, and the ungloved hand atten- 
uated and delicate as a woman’s. A sidelong 
glance from under the deep shade seemed to sat- 
isfy him regarding his neighbors, and drawing 
his cloak about him with a slight shiver, he leaned 
into the corner and seemed to forget that he was 
not alone. 

Helen and Amy exchanged glances of com- 
passionate interest, for women always pity in- 
valids, especially if young, comely and of the 
opposite sex. The major took one look, shrugged 
his shoulders, and returned to his book. 


2 1 8 Proverb Stories 


Presently a hollow cough gave Helen a pre- 
text for discovering the nationality of the new- 
comer. 

“ Do the open windows inconvenience you, 
sir? ” she asked, in English. 

No answer; the question evidently unintelli- 
gible. 

She repeated it in French, lightly touching his 
cloak to arrest his attention. 

Instantly a smile broke over the handsome 
mouth, and in the purest French he assured her 
that the fresh air was most agreeable, and begged 
pardon for annoying them with his troublesome 
cough. 

“ Not an invalid, I hope, sir? ** said the major, 
in his bluff yet kindly voice. 

“ They tell me I can have no other fate ; that 
my malady is fatal ; but I still hope and fight for 
my life; it is all I have to give my country now."' 

A stifled sigh and a sad emphasis on the last 
word roused the sympathy of the girls, the inter- 
est of the major. 

He took another survey, and said, with a tone 
of satisfaction, as he marked the martial carriage 
of the young man, and caught a fiery glance of 
the half-hidden eyes, — 

‘‘ You are a soldier, sir? 

‘‘ I was ; I am nothing now but an exile, for 
Poland is in chains.’’ 

The words ‘‘ Poland ” and exile ” brought 
up all the pathetic stories of that unhappy coun- 


The Baron’s Gloves 219 

try which the three listeners had ever heard, and 
won their interest at once. 

‘‘You were in the late revolution, perhaps?” 
asked the major, giving the unhappy outbreak 
the most respectful name he could use. 

“ From beginning to end.” 

“ Oh, tell us about it ; we felt much sympathy 
for you, and longed to have you win,” cried Amy, 
with such genuine interest and pity in her tone, 
it was impossible to resist. 

Pressing both hands upon his breast, the young 
man bent low, with a flush of feeling on his pale 
cheek, and answered eagerly, ^ 

“ Ah, you are kind ; it is balm to my sore heart 
to hear words like these. I thank you, and tell 
you what you will. It is but little that I do, yet 
I give my life, and die a long death, instead of 
a quick, brave one with my comrades.” 

“ You are young to have borne a part in a 
revolution, sir,” said the major, who pricked up 
his ears like an old war-horse at the sound of 
battle. 

“ My friends and myself left the University 
at Varsovie, as volunteers; we did our part, and 
now all lie in their graves but three.” 

“You were wounded, it seems?” 

“ Many times. Exposure, privation, and sor- 
row will finish what the Russian bullets began. 
But it is well. I have no wish to see my country 
enslaved, and I can no longer help her.” 

“ Let us hope that a happier future waits for 


2 20 Proverb Stories 

you both. Poland loves liberty too well, and has 
suffered too much for it, to be kept long in cap- 
tivity/’ 

Helen spoke warmly, and the young man lis- 
tened with a brightening face. 

It is a kind prophecy ; I accept it, and take 
courage. God knows I need it,” he added, low 
to himself. 

‘‘Are you bound for Italy?” said the major, 
in a most un-English fit of curiosity. 

“ For Geneva first, Italy later, unless Mon- 
treaux is mild enough for me to winter in. I 
go to satisfy my friends, but doubt if it avails.” 

“ Where is Montreaux ? ” asked Amy. 

“ Near Clarens, where Rousseau wrote his 
Heloise, and Vevay, where so many English go 
to enjoy Chillon. The climate is divine for un- 
fortunates like myself, and life more cheap there 
than in Italy.” 

Here the train stopped again, and Hoffman 
came to ask if the ladies desired anything. 

At the sound of his voice the young Pole 
started, looked up, and exclaimed, with the vi- 
vacity of a foreigner, in German, — 

“ By my life, it is Karl ! Behold me, old 
friend, and satisfy me that it is thyself by a hand- 
shake.” 

“ Casimer ! What wind blows thee hither, my 
boy, in such sad plight?” replied Hoffman, 
grasping the slender hand outstretched to him. 

“ I fly from an enemy for the first time in my 


The Baron’s Gloves 221 


life, and, like all cowards, shall be conquered in 
the end. I wrote thee I was better, but the wound 
in the breast reopened, and nothing but a miracle 
will save me. I go to Switzerland; and thou?’’ 

'' Where my master commands. I serve this 
gentleman, now.” 

'' Hard changes for both, but with health thou 
art king of circumstances, while I ? — Ah well, 
the good God knows best. Karl, go thou and 
buy me two of those pretty baskets of grapes; 
I will please myself by giving them to these pity- 
ing angels. Speak they German ? ” 

One, the elder ; but they understand not this 
rattle of ours.” 

Karl disappeared, and Helen, who had under- 
stood the rapid dialogue, tried to seem as un- 
conscious as Amy. 

Say a friendly word to me at times ; I am 
so homesick and faint-hearted, my Hoffman. 
Thanks; they are almost worthy the lips that 
shall taste them.” 

Taking the two little osier baskets, laden with 
yellow and purple clusters, Casimer offered them, 
with a charming mixture of timidity and grace, 
to the girls, saying, like a grateful boy, — 

‘‘You give me kind words and good hopes; 
permit that I thank you in this poor way.” 

“ I drink success to Poland,” cried Helen, lift- 
ing a great, juicy grape to her lips, like a little 
purple goblet, hoping to hide her confusion under 
a playful air. 


22 2 Proverb Stories 

The grapes went round, and healths were drunk 
with much merriment, for in travelling on the 
Continent it is impossible for the gruffest, prim- 
mest person to long resist the frank courtesy and 
vivacious chat of foreigners. 

The major was unusually social and inquisi- 
tive, and while the soldiers fought their battles 
over again the girls listened and took notes, with 
feminine wits on the alert to catch any personal 
revelations which might fall from the interesting 
stranger. The wrongs and sufferings of Poland 
were discussed so eloquently that both young 
ladies were moved to declare the most undying 
hatred of Russia, Prussia, and Austria, the most 
intense sympathy for poor Pologne.” All day 
they travelled together, and as Baden-Baden ap- 
proached, they naturally fell to talking of the 
gay place. 

Uncle, I must try my fortune once. I Ve 
set my heart upon it, and so has Nell. We want 
to know how gamblers feel, and to taste the fas- 
cination of the game which draws people here 
from all parts of Europe,” said Amy, in her half- 
pleading, half-imperious way. 

“ You may risk one napoleon each, as I fool- 
ishly promised you should, when I little thought 
you would ever have an opportunity to remind 
me of my promise. It 's not an amusement for 
respectable Englishwomen, or men either. You 
will agree with me there, monsieur ? ” and the 
major glanced at the Pole, who replied, with his 
peculiar smile : — 


The Baron’s Gloves 223 

‘‘ Surely, yes. It is great folly and waste of 
time and money ; yet I have known one man who 
found some good in it, or, rather, brought good 
out of it. I have a friend who has a mania for 
giving. His own fortune was spent in helping 
needy students at the University, and poor pro- 
fessors. This displeased his father, and he re- 
fused supplies, except enough for his simple per- 
sonal wants. Sigismund chafed at this, and being 
skilful at all games, as a gentleman may be in the 
way of amusement, he resolved to play with 
those whose money was wasted on frivolities, 
and give his winnings to his band of paupers.” 

How did it succeed, this odd fancy ? ” asked 
Helen, with an interested face, while Amy 
pinched her arm at the word “ Sigismund.” 

‘‘ Excellently. My friend won often, and as 
his purpose became known it caused no unkind 
feeling, this unusual success, for fortune seemed 
to favor his kind object.” 

Wrong, nevertheless, to do evil that good 
may come of it,” said the major, morally. 

It may be so ; but it is not for me to cen- 
sure my benefactor. He has done much for my 
countrymen and myself, and is so truly noble 
I can see no fault in him.” 

What an odd name ! Sigismund is German, 
is it not ? ” asked Amy, in the most artless tone 
of interest. 

Yes, mademoiselle, and Palsdorf is a true 
German; much courage, strength and intellect. 


2 24 Proverb Stories 

with the gayety and simplicity of a boy. He 
hates slavery of all kinds, and will be free at all 
costs. He is a good son, but his father is tyran- 
nical, and asks too much. Sigismund will not 
submit to sell himself, and so is in disgrace for 
a time.” 

Palsdorf ! — was not that the name of the 
count or baron we heard them talking of at 
Coblentz ? ” said Helen to Amy, with a well- 
feigned air of uncertainty. 

''Yes; I heard something of a duel and a 
broken betrothal, I think. The people seemed 
to consider the baron a wild young man, so it 
could not have been your friend, sir,” was Amy’s 
demure reply, glancing at Helen with mirthful 
eyes, as if to say, " How our baron haunts us! ” 
" It is the same, doubtless. Many consider 
him wild, because he is original, and dares act 
for himself. As it is well known, I may tell you 
the truth of the duel and the betrothal, if you 
care to hear a little romance.” 

Casimer looked eager to defend his friend, 
and as the girls were longing to hear the ro- 
mance, permission was given. 

" In Germany, you know, the young people are 
often betrothed in childhood by the parents, and 
sometimes never meet till they are grown. Usu- 
ally all goes well; but not always, for love can- 
not come at command. Sigismund was plighted, 
when a boy of fifteen, to his young cousin, and 
then sent away to the University till of age. On 


The Baron’s Gloves 225 

returning, he was to travel a year or two, and 
then marry. He gladly went away, and with 
increasing disquiet saw the time draw near when 
he must keep his troth-plight.” 

‘‘Hum! loved some one else. Very unfor- 
tunate to be sure,” said the major with a sigh. 

“ Not so ; he only loved his liberty, and pretty 
Minna was less dear than a life of perfect free- 
dom. He went back at the appointed time, saw 
his cousin, tried to do his duty and love her; 
found it impossible, and, discovering that Minna 
loved another, vowed he would never make her 
unhappiness as well as his own. The old baron 
stormed, but the young one was firm, and would 
not listen to a marriage without love ; but pleaded 
for Minna, wished his rival success, and set out 
again on his travels.” 

“And the duel?” asked the major, who took 
less interest in love than war. 

“ That was as characteristic as the other act. 
A son of one high in office at Berlin circulated 
false reports of the cause of Palsdorf's refusal 
of the alliance — reports injurious to Minna. 
Sigismund settled the matter in the most effectual 
manner, by challenging and wounding the man. 
But for court influence it would have gone hardly 
with my friend. The storm, however, has blown 
over; Minna will be happy with her lover, and 
Sigismund with his liberty, till he tires of it.” 

“ Is he handsome, this hero of yours ? ” said 
Amy, feeling the ring under her glove, for in 


2 26 Proverb Stories 

spite of Helen’s advice, she insisted on wearing 
it, that it might be at hand to return at any mo- 
ment, should chance again bring the baron in 
their way. 

‘‘ A true German of the old type ; blond and 
blue-eyed, tall and strong. My hero in good 
truth — brave and loyal, tender and true,” was 
the enthusiastic answer. 

I hate fair men,” pouted Amy, under her 
breath, as the major asked some question about 
hotels. 

‘‘ Take a new hero, then; nothing can be more 
romantic than that,” whispered Helen, glancing 
at the pale, dark-haired figure wrapped in the 
military cloak opposite. 

I will, and leave the baron to you ; ” said 
Amy, with a stifled laugh. 

Hush I Here are Baden and Karl,” replied 
Helen, thankful for the interruption. 

All was bustle in a moment, and taking leave 
of them with an air of reluctance, the Pole walked 
away, leaving Amy looking after him wistfully, 
quite unconscious that she stood in everybody’s 
way, and that her uncle was beckoning impa- 
tiently from the carriage door. 

‘‘ Poor boy ! I wish he had some one to take 
care of him,” she sighed, half aloud. 

“ Mademoiselle, the major waits ; ” and Karl 
came up, hat in hand, just in time to hear her 
and glance after Casimer, with an odd expres- 
sion. 


V 

LUDMILLA 

“ T WONDER what that young* man^s name 

I was. Did he mention it, Helena ? said 
the major, pausing in his march up and 
down the room', as if the question was suggested 
by the sight of the little baskets, which the girls 
had kept. 

“No, uncle; but you can easily ask Hoff- 
man,’’ replied Helen. 

“ By the way, Karl, who was the Polish gen- 
tleman who came on with us? ” asked the major 
a moment afterward, as the courier came in with 
newspapers. 

“ Casimer Teblinski, sir.” 

“ A baron ? ” asked Amy, who was decidedly 
a young lady of one idea just then. 

“ No, mademoiselle, but of a noble family, as 
the ‘ ski ’ denotes, for that is to Polish and Rus- 
sian names what ‘ von ’ is to German and ‘ de ’ 
to French.” 

“ I was rather interested in him. Where did 
you pick him up, Hoffman ? ” said the major. 

“ In Paris, where he was with fellow-exiles.” 

“ He is what he seems, is he? — no impostor, 
or anything of that sort ? One is often deceived, 
you know.” 


2 2 8 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ On my honor, sir, he is a gentleman, and 
as brave as he is accomplished and excellent.” 

“Will he die?” asked Amy, pathetically. 

“With care he would recover, I think; but 
there is no one to nurse him, so the poor lad 
must take his chance and trust in heaven for 
help.” 

“ How sad ! I wish we were going his way, 
so that we might do something for him — at 
least give him the society of his friend.” 

Helen glanced at Hoffman, feeling that if he 
were not already engaged by them, he would 
devote himself to the invalid without any thought 
of payment. 

“ Perhaps we are. You want to see the Lake 
of Geneva, Chillon, and that neighborhood. 
Why not go now, instead of later ? ” 

“ Will you, uncle ? That ’s capital ! We need 
say nothing, but go on and help the poor boy, 
if we can.” 

Helen spoke like a matron of forty, and looked 
as full of maternal kindness as if the Pole were 
not out of his teens. 

The courier bowed, the major laughed behind 
his paper, and Amy gave a sentimental sigh to 
the memory of the baron, in whom her interest 
was failing. 

They only caught a glimpse of the Pole that 
evening at the Kursaal, but next morning they 
met, and he was invited to join their party for 
a little expedition. 


The Baron’s Gloves 229 

The major was in fine spirits, and Helen as- 
sumed her maternal air toward both invalids, for 
the sound of that hollow cough always brought 
a shadow over her face, recalling the brother she 
had lost. 

Amy was particularly merry and charming, 
and kept the whole party laughing at her comical 
efforts to learn Polish and teach 'English as they 
drove up the mountainside to the old Schloss. 

I ’m not equal to mounting all those steps 
for a view I Ve seen a dozen times ; but pray 
take care of the child, Nell, or she 'll get lost 
again, as at Heidelberg," said the major, when 
they had roamed about the lower part of the 
place; for a cool seat in the courtyard and a 
glass of beer were more tempting than turrets 
and prospects to the stout gentleman. 

‘‘ She shall not be lost; I am her body-guard. 
It is steep — permit that I lead you, mademoi- 
selle ; " Casimer offered his hand to Amy, and 
they began their winding way. As she took the 
hand, the girl blushed and half smiled, remem- 
bering the vaults and the baron. 

I like this better," she said to herself, as they 
climbed step by step, often pausing to rest in the 
embrasures of the loopholes, where the sun 
glanced in, the balmy wind blew, and vines peeped 
from without, making a pretty picture of the girl, 
as she sat with rosy color on her usually pale 
cheeks, brown curls fluttering about her fore- 
head, laughing lips, and bright eyes full of pleas- 


Proverb Stories 


230 

ant changes. Leaning opposite in the narrow- 
stairway, Casimer had time to study the little 
tableau in many lights, and in spite of the dark 
glasses, to convey warm glances of admiration, of 
which, however, the young coquette seemed ut- 
terly unconscious. 

Helen came leisurely after, and Hoffman fol- 
lowed-^with a telescope, wishing, as he went, that 
his countrywomen possessed such dainty feet as 
those going on before him, for which masculine 
iniquity he will be pardoned by all who have seen 
the foot of a German Fraulein. 

It was worth the long ascent, that wide-spread 
landscape basking in the August glow. 

Sitting on a fallen block of stone, while Casi- 
mer held a sun-umbrella over her, Amy had rap- 
tures at her ease; while Helen sketched and 
asked questions of Hoffman, who stood beside 
her, watching her progress with interest. Once 
when, after repeated efforts to catch a curious 
effect of light and shade, she uttered an impa- 
tient little exclamation, Karl made a gesture as 
if to take the pencil and show her, but seemed 
to recollect himself and drew back with a hasty 
“ Pardon, mademoiselle.’’ Helen glanced up 
and saw the expression of his face, which plainly 
betrayed that for a moment the gentleman had 
forgotten he was a courier. She was glad of it, 
for it was a daily trial to her to order this man 
about; and following the womanly impulse, she 
smiled and offered the pencil, saying simply, — 


The Baron’s Gloves 231 

‘‘ I felt sure you understood it ; please show 
me.” 

He did so, and a few masterly strokes gave the 
sketch what it needed. As he bent near her to 
do this, Helen stole a glance at the grave, dark 
face, and suddenly a disturbed look dawned in 
the eyes fixed on the glossy black locks pushed 
off the courier’s forehead, for he had removed 
his hat when she spoke to him. He seemed to 
feel that something was amiss, shot a quick glance 
at her, returned the pencil and rose erect, with 
an almost defiant air, yet something of shame in 
his eye, as his lips moved as if to speak impet- 
uously. But not a word did he utter, for Helen 
touched her forehead significantly, and said in a 
low tone, — 

I am an artist; let me recommend Vandyke 
brown, which is not affected by heat.” 

Hoffman looked over his shoulder at the other 
pair, but Amy was making an ivy wreath for her 
hat, and the Pole pulling sprays for the absorb- 
ing work. Speaking rapidly, Karl said, with a 
peculiar blending of merriment, humility, and 
anxiety in his tone, — 

‘‘ Mademoiselle, you are quick to discover my 
disguise; will you also be kind in concealing? 
I have enemies as well as friends, whom I desire 
to escape; I would earn my bread unknown; 
Monsieur le Major keeps my foolish secret; may 
I hope for equal goodness from yourself? ” 

‘‘ You may, I do not forget that I owe my life 


Proverb Stories 


232 

to you, nor that you are a gentleman. Trust me, 
I never will betray you.” 

“ Thanks, thanks ! there will come a time 
when I may confess the truth and be myself, but 
not yet,” and his regretful tone was emphasized 
by an impatient gesture, as if concealment was 
irksome. 

'' Nell, come down to lunch ; uncle is signal- 
ling as if he ’d gone mad. No, monsieur, it is 
quite impossible; you cannot reach the harebells 
without risking too much; come away and for- 
get that I wanted them.” 

Amy led the way, and all went down more 
quietly than they came up, especially Helen and 
Hoffman. An excellent lunch waited on one of 
the tables in front of the old gateway, and hav- 
ing done justice to it, the major made himself 
comfortable with a cigar, bidding the girls keep 
near, for they must be off in half an hour. Hoff- 
man went to see to the horses, Casimer strolled 
away with him, and the young ladies went to 
gather wild flowers at the foot of the tower. 

“Not a harebell here; isn’t it provoking, 
when they grow in tufts up there, where one 
can’t reach them. Mercy, what ’s that ? Run, 
Nell, the old wall is coming down ! ” 

Both had been grubbing in a damp nook, where 
ferns and mosses grew luxuriantly; the fall of 
a bit of stone and a rending sound above made 
them fly back to the path and look up. 

Amy covered her eyes, and Helen grew pale, 


The Baron’s Gloves 233 

for part way down the crumbling tower, cling- 
ing like a bird to the thick ivy stems, hung Casi- 
mer, coolly gathering harebells from the clefts 
of the wall. 

“ Hush ; don't cry out or speak ; it may startle 
him. Crazy boy! Let us see what he will do," 
whispered Helen. 

‘‘ He can't go back, the vines are so torn and 
weak ; and how will he get down the lower wall ? 
for you see the ivy grows up from that ledge, 
and there is nothing below. How could he do 
it? I was only joking when I lamented that 
there were no knights now, ready to leap into 
a lion's den for a lady's glove," returned Amy, 
half angry. 

In breathless silence they watched the climber 
till his cap was full of flowers, and taking it 
between his teeth, he rapidly swung down to the 
wide ledge, from which there appeared to be no 
way of escape but a reckless leap of many feet on 
to the turf below. 

The girls stood in the shadow of an old gate- 
way, unperceived, and waited anxiously what 
should follow. 

Lightly folding and fastening the cap together, 
he dropped it down, and, leaning forward, tried 
to catch the top of a young birch rustling close 
by the wall. Twice he missed it; the first time 
he frowned, but the second he uttered an em- 
phatic, ** Deuce take it ! " 

Helen and Amy looked at each other with a 
mutual smile and exclamation, — 


2 34 Proverb Stories 

‘‘ He knows some English, then ! ” 

There was time for no more — a violent rustle, 
a boyish laugh, and down swung the slender tree, 
with the young man clinging to the top. 

As he landed safely, Helen cried, ‘‘ Bravo ! 
and Amy rushed out, exclaiming reproachfully, 
yet admiringly, — 

How could you do it and frighten us so ? 
I shall never express a wish before you again, 
for if I wanted the moon you 'd rashly try to 
get it, I know.'' 

Certainenwnt, mademoiselle," was the smil- 
ing reply. Casimer presented the flowers, as if 
the exploit was a mere trifle. 

‘‘Now I shall go and press them at once in 
uncle's guide-book. Come and help me, else you 
will be in mischief again." And Amy led the 
way to the major with her flowers and their 
giver. 

Helen roamed into one of the ruined courts 
for a last look at a fountain which pleased her 
eye. A sort of cloister ran round the court, open 
on both sides, and standing in one of these arched 
nooks, she saw Hoffman and a young girl talk- 
ing animatedly. The girl was pretty, well 
dressed, and seemed refusing something for 
which the other pleaded eagerly. His arm was 
about her, and she leaned affectionately upon 
him, with a white hand now and then caressing 
his face, which was full of sparkle and vivacity 
now. They seemed about to part as Helen 


The Baron’s Gloves 235 

looked, for the maiden standing on tiptoe, laugh- 
ingly offered her blooming cheek, and as Karl 
kissed it warmly, he said in German, so audibly 
Helen heard every word, — 

Farewell, my Ludmilla. Keep silent and I 
shall soon be with you. Embrace the little one, 
and do not let him forget me.” 

Both left the place as they spoke, each going 
a different way, and Helen slowly returned to her 
party, saying to herself in a troubled tone, — 

“ ' Ludmilla ’ and ‘ the little one ’ are his wife 
and child, doubtless. I wonder if uncle knows 
that.” 

When Hoffman next appeared she could not 
resist looking at him; but the accustomed grav- 
ity was resumed, and nothing remained of the 
glow and brightness he had worn when with 
Ludmilla in the cloister. 


VI 

CHATEAU DE LA TOUR 

H elen looked serious and Amy indig- 
nant when their uncle joined them, 
ready to set out by the afternoon train, 
all having dined and rested after the morning's 
excursion. 

“Well, little girls, what’s the matter now?” 
he asked, paternally, for the excellent man adored 
his nieces. 

“ Helen says it ’s not best to go on with the 
Pole, and is perfectly nonsensical, uncle,” began 
Amy, petulantly, and not very coherently. 

“ Better be silly now than sorry by and by. I 
only suggested that, being interesting, and Amy 
romantic, she might find this young man too 
charming, if we see too much of him,” said 
Helen. 

“ Bless my soul, what an idea ! ” cried the 
major. “ Why, Nell, he ’s an invalid, a Cath- 
olic, and a foreigner, any one of which objec- 
tions are enough to settle that matter. Little 
Amy is n’t so foolish as to be in danger of losing 
her heart to a person so entirely out of the ques- 
tion as this poor lad, is she ? ” 


The Baron’s Gloves 237 

'‘Of course not. You do me justice, uncle. 
Nell thinks she may pity and pet any one she likes 
because she is five years older than I, and en- 
tirely forgets that she is a great deal more at- 
tractive than a feeble thing like me. I should 
as soon think of losing my heart to Hoffman as 
to the Pole, even if he was n’t what he is. One 
may surely be kind to a dying man, without being 
accused of coquetry;” and Amy sobb.ed in the 
most heart-rending manner. 

Helen comforted her by withdrawing all ob- 
jections, and promising to leave the matter in 
the major’s hands. But she shook her head pri- 
vately when she saw the ill-disguised eagerness 
with which her cousin glanced up and down the 
platform after they were in the train, and she 
whispered to her uncle, unobserved, — 

“ Leave future meetings to chance, and don’t 
ask the Pole in, if you can help it.” 

" Nonsense, my dear. You are as particular 
as your aunt. The lad amuses me, and you can’t 
deny you like to nurse sick heroes,” was all the 
answer she got, as the major, with true masculine 
perversity, put his head out of the window and 
hailed Casimer as he was passing with a bow. 

" Here, Teblinski, my good fellow, don’t 
desert us. We ’ve always a spare seat for you, 
if you have n’t pleasanter quarters.” 

With a flush of pleasure the young man came 
up, but hesitated to accept the invitation till 
Helen seconded it with a smile of welcome. 


238 Proverb Stories 

Amy was in an injured mood, and, shrouded 
in a great blue veil, pensively reclined in her 
corner as if indifferent to everything about her. 
But soon the cloud passed, and she emerged in 
a radiant state of good humor, which lasted un- 
broken until the journey ended. 

For two days they went on together, a very 
happy party, for the major called in Hoffman to 
see his friend and describe the places through 
which they passed. An arrangement very agree- 
able to all, as Karl was a favorite, and every one 
missed him when away. 

At Lausanne they waited while he crossed the 
lake to secure rooms at Vevay. On his return 
he reported that all the hotels and pensions were 
full, but that at La Tour he had secured rooms 
for a few weeks in a quaint old chateau on the 
banks of the lake. 

Count Severin is absent in Egypt, and the 
housekeeper has permission to let the apartments 
to transient visitors. The suite of rooms I speak 
of were engaged to a party who are detained by 
sickness — they are cheap, pleasant, and com- 
fortable. A salon and four bed-rooms. I en- 
gaged them all, thinking that Teblinski might 
like a room there till he finds lodgings at Mont- 
reaux. We can enter at once, and I am sure the 
ladies will approve of the picturesque place.” 

“Well done, Hoffman; off we go without 
delay, for I really long to rest my old bones in 
something like a home, after this long trip,” said 


The Baron’s Gloves 239 

the major, who always kept his little troop in 
light marching order. 

The sail across that loveliest of lakes prepared 
the new-comers to be charmed with all they saw ; 
and when, entering by the old stone gate, they 
were led into a large saloon, quaintly furnished 
and opening into a terrace-garden overhanging 
the water, with Chillon and the Alps in sight, 
Amy declared nothing could be more perfect, 
and Helen’s face proved her satisfaction. 

An English widow and two quiet old German 
professors on a vacation were the only inmates 
besides themselves and the buxom Swiss house- 
keeper and her maids. 

It was late when our party arrived, and there 
was only time for a hasty survey of their rooms 
and a stroll in the garden before dinner. 

The great chamber, with its shadowy bed, 
dark mirrors, ghostly wainscot-doors and narrow 
windows, had not been brightened for a long 
time by such a charming little apparition as Amy 
when she shook out her airy muslins, smoothed 
her curls, and assumed all manner of distracting 
devices for the captivation of mankind. Even 
Helen, though not much given to personal van- 
ity, found herself putting flowers in her hair, and 
studying the effect of bracelets on her handsome 
arms, as if there was some especial need of look- 
ing her best on this occasion. 

Both were certainly great ornaments to the 
drawing-room that evening, as the old professors 


Proverb Stories 


240 

agreed while they sat blinking at them, like a 
pair of benign owls. Casimer surprised them by 
his skill in music, for, though forbidden to sing 
on account of his weak lungs, he played as if 
inspired. Amy hovered about him like a moth; 
the major cultivated the acquaintance of the 
plump widow; and Helen stood at the window, 
enjoying the lovely night and music, till some- 
thing happened which destroyed her pleasure in 
both. 

The window was open, and, leaning from it, 
she was watching the lake, when the sound of a 
heavy sigh caught her ear. There was no moon, 
but through the starlight she saw a man’s figure 
among the shrubs below, sitting with bent head 
and hidden face in the forlorn attitude of one 
shut out from the music, light, and gayety that 
reigned within. 

‘‘ It is Karl,” she thought, and was about to 
speak, when, as if startled by some sound she 
did not hear, he rose and vanished in the gloom 
of the garden. 

Poor man ! he thought of his wife and child, 
perhaps, sitting here alone while all the rest make 
merry, with no care for him. Uncle must see to 
this ; ” and Helen fell into a reverie till Amy 
came to propose retiring. 

** I meant to have seen where all these doors 
led, but was so busy dressing I had no time, so 
must leave it for my amusement to-morrow. 
Uncle says it’s a very Radcliffian place. How 


The Baron’s Gloves 241 

like an angel that man did play ! chattered 
Amy, and lulled herself to sleep by humming the 
last air Casimer had given them. 

Helen could not sleep, for the lonely figure 
in the garden haunted her, and she wearied her- 
self with conjectures about Hoffman and his 
mystery. Hour after hour rung from the 
cuckoo-clock in the hall, but still she lay awake, 
watching the curious shadows in the room, and 
exciting herself with recalling the tales of Ger- 
man goblins with which the courier had amused 
them the day before. 

It is close and musty here, with all this old 
tapestry and stuff about ; I ’ll open the other 
window,” she thought; and, noiselessly slipping 
from Amy’s side, she threw on wrapper and slip- 
pers, lighted her candle and tried to unbolt the 
tall, diamond-paned lattice. It was rusty and 
would not yield, and, giving it up, she glanced 
about to see whence air could be admitted. There 
were four doors in the room, all low and arched, 
with clumsy locks and heavy handles. One 
opened into a closet, one into the passage; the 
third was locked, but the fourth opened easily, 
and, lifting her light, she peeped into a small 
octagon room, full of all manner of curiosities. 
What they were she had no time to see, for her 
startled eyes were riveted on an object that turned 
her faint and cold with terror. 

A heavy table stood in the middle of the room, 
and seated at it, with some kind of weapon before 


242 Proverb Stories 

him, was a man who looked over his shoulder, 
with a ghastly face half hidden by hair and beard, 
and fierce black eyes as full of malignant menace 
as was the clinched hand holding the pistol. One 
instant Helen looked, the next flung to the door, 
bolted it and dropped into a chair, trembling in 
every limb. The noise did not wake Amy, and 
a moment's thought showed Helen the wisdom 
of keeping her in ignorance of this affair. She 
knew the major was close by, and possessing 
much courage, she resolved to wait a little before 
rousing the house. 

Hardly had she collected herself, when steps 
were heard moving softly in the octagon room. 
Her light had gone out as she closed the door, 
and sitting close by in the dark, she heard the 
sound of some one breathing as he listened at 
the key-hole. Then a careful hand tried the 
door, so noiselessly that no sleeper would have 
been awakened; and as if to guard against a 
second surprise, the unknown person drew two 
bolts across the door and stole away. 

Safe for a time ; but I 'll not pass another 
night under this roof, unless this is satisfactorily 
cleared up," thought Helen, now feeling more 
angry than frightened. 

The last hour that struck was three, and soon 
the summer dawn reddened the sky. Dressing 
herself, Helen sat by Amy, a sleepless guard, till 
she woke, smiling and rosy as a child. Saying 
nothing of her last night's alarm, Helen went 


The Baron’s Gloves 243 

down to breakfast a little paler than usual, but 
otherwise unchanged. The major never liked to 
be disturbed till he had broken his fast, and the 
moment they rose from the table he exclaimed, — 

“ Now, girls, come and see the mysteries of 
Udolpho.*^ 

I ’ll say nothing, yet,” thought Helen, feel- 
ing braver by daylight, yet troubled by her secret, 
for Hoffman might be a traitor, and this charm- 
ing chateau a den of thieves. Such things had 
been, and she was in a mood to believe anything. 

The upper story was a perfect museum of 
antique relics, very entertaining to examine. 
Having finished these, Hoffman, who acted as 
guide, led them into a little gloomy room con- 
taining a straw pallet, a stone table with a loaf 
and pitcher on it, and, kneeling before a crucifix, 
where the light from a single slit in the wall fell 
on him, was the figure of a monk. The waxen 
mask was life-like, the attitude effective, and the 
cell excellently arranged. Amy cried out when 
she first saw it, but a second glance reassured 
her, and she patted the bald head approvingly, 
as Karl explained, — 

“ Count Severin is an antiquarian, and amuses 
himself with things of this sort. In old times 
there really was a hermit here, and this is his 
effigy. Come down these narrow stairs, if you 
please, and see the rest of the mummery.” 

Down they went, and the instant Helen looked 
about her, she burst into a hysterical laugh, for 


244 Proverb Stories 

there sat her ruffian, exactly as she saw him, 
glaring over his shoulder with threatening eyes, 
and one hand on the pistol. They all looked at 
her, for she was pale, and her merriment unnat- 
ural; so, feeling she had excited curiosity, she 
gratified it by narrating her night’s adventure. 
Hoffman looked much concerned. 

“ Pardon, mademoiselle, the door should have 
been bolted on this side. It usually is, but that 
room being unused, it was forgotten. I remem- 
bered it, and having risen early, crept up to make 
sure that you did not come upon this ugly thing 
unexpectedly. But I was too late, it seems; you 
have suffered, to my sorrow.” 

** Dear Nell, and that was why I found you 
so pale and cold and quiet, sitting by me when 
I woke, guarding me faithfully as you promised 
you would. How brave and kind you were ! ” 

‘‘ Villain ! I should much like to fire your own 
pistols at you for this prank of yours.” 

And Casimer laughingly filliped the image on 
its absurdly aquiline nose. 

“ What in the name of common sense is this 
goblin here for?” demanded the major, testily. 

‘‘ There is a legend that once the owner of 
the chateau amused himself by decoying travel- 
lers here, putting them to sleep in that room, and 
by various devices alluring them thither. Here, 
one step beyond the threshold of the door, was 
a trap, down which the unfortunates were pre- 
cipitated to the dungeon at the bottom of the 


The Baron’s Gloves 245 

tower, there to die and be cast into the lake 
through a water-gate, still to be seen. Severin 
keeps this flattering likeness of the rascal, as he 
does the monk above, to amuse visitors by day- 
light, not at night, mademoiselle.” 

And Hoffman looked wrathfully at the image, 
as if he would much enjoy sending it down the 
trap. 

“ How ridiculous ! I shall not go about this 
place alone, for fear of lighting upon some hor- 
ror of this sort. I Ve had enough ; come away 
into the garden ; it 's full of roses, and we may 
have as many as we like.” 

As she spoke Amy involuntarily put out her 
hand for Casimer to lead her down the steep 
stone steps, and he pressed the little hand with 
a tender look which caused it to be hastily with- 
drawn. 

Here are your roses. Pretty flower; I 
know its meaning in English, for it is the same 
with us. To give a bud to a lady is to confess 
the beginning of love, a half open one tells of 
its growth, and a full-blown one is to declare 
one’s passion. Do you have that custom in your 
land, mademoiselle?” 

He had gathered the three as he spoke, and 
held the bud separately while looking at his com- 
panion wistfully. 

No, we are not poetical, like your people, but 
it is a pretty fancy,” and Amy settled her bou- 
quet with an absorbed expression, though in- 


246 Proverb Stories 

wardly wondering what he would do with his 
flowers. 

He stood silent a moment, with a sudden flush 
sweeping across his face, then flung all three into 
the lake with a gesture that made the girl start, 
and muttered between his teeth : 

No, no; for me it is too late.^’ 

She affected not to hear, but making up a 
second bouquet, she gave it to him, with no touch 
of coquetry in compassionate eyes or gentle voice. 

Make your room bright with these. When 
one is ill nothing is so cheering as the sight of 
flowers.'' 

Meantime the others had descended and gone 
their separate ways. 

As Karl crossed the courtyard a little child ran 
to meet him with outstretched arms and a shout 
of satisfaction. He caught it up and carried it 
away on his shoulder, like one used to caress and 
be caressed by children. 

Helen, waiting at the door of the tower while 
the major dusted his coat, saw this, and said, 
suddenly, directing his attention to man and 
child, — 

“ He seems fond of little people. I wonder if 
he has any of his own." 

“ Hoffman? No, my dear; he's not married; 
I asked him that when I engaged him." 

“ And he said he was not? " 

‘‘Yes; he's not more than five or six-and- 
twenty, and fond of a wandering life, so what 


The Baron’s Gloves 247 

should he want of a wife and a flock of bant- 
lings?’’ 

“ He seems sad and sober sometimes, and I 
fancied he might have some domestic trouble to 
harass him. Don’t you think there is something 
peculiar about him ? ” asked Helen, remember- 
ing Hoffman’s hint that her uncle knew his wish 
to travel incognito, and wondering if he would 
throw any light upon the matter. But the ma- 
jor’s face was impenetrable and his answer un- 
satisfactory. 

‘‘ Well, I don’t know. Every one has some 
worry or other, and as for being peculiar, all 
foreigners seem more or less so to us, they are 
so unreserved and demonstrative. I like Hoff- 
man more and more every day, and shall be sorry 
when I part with him.” 

“ Ludmilla is his sister, then, or he did n’t tell 
uncle the truth. It is no concern of mine; but 
I wish I knew,” thought Helen anxiously, and 
then wondered why she should care. 

A feeling of distrust had taken possession of 
her and she determined to be on the watch, for 
the unsuspicious major would be easily duped, 
and Helen trusted more to her own quick and 
keen eye than to his experience. She tried to 
show nothing of the change in her manner; but 
Hoffman perceived it, and bore it with a proud 
patience which often touched her heart, but never 
altered her purpose. 


VII 

AT FAULT 

F our weeks went by so rapidly that every 
one refused to believe it when the major 
stated the fact at the breakfast-table, for 
all had enjoyed themselves so heartily that they 
had been unconscious of the lapse of time. 

“You are not going- away, uncle?” cried 
Amy, with a panic-stricken look. 

“Next week, my dear; we must be off, for 
we Ve much to do yet, and I promised mamma 
to bring you back by the end of October.” 

“ Never mind Paris and the rest of it ; this is 
pleasanter. I ’d rather stay here — ” 

There Amy checked herself and tried to hide 
her face behind her coffee-cup, for Casimer looked 
up in a way that made her heart flutter and her 
cheeks burn. 

“ Sorry for it, Amy; but go we must, so enjoy 
your last week with all your might, and come 
again next year.” 

“ It will never be again what it is now,” sighed 
Amy; and Casimer echoed the words “next 


The Baron’s Gloves 249 

year,” as if sadly wondering if the present year 
would not be his last. 

Helen rose silently and went into the garden, 
for of late she had fallen into the way of reading 
and working in the little pavilion which stood in 
an angle of the wall, overlooking lake and moun- 
tains. 

A seat at the opposite end of the walk was 
Amy's haunt, for she liked the sun, and within 
a week or two something like constraint had ex- 
isted between the cousins. Each seemed happier 
apart, and each was intent on her own affairs. 
Helen watched over Amy’s health, but no longer 
offered advice or asked confidence. She often 
looked anxious, and once or twice urged the 
major to go, as if conscious of some danger. 

But the worthy man seemed to have been be- 
witched as well as the young folks, and was quite 
happy sitting by the plump, placid widow, or 
leisurely walking with her to the chapel on the 
hillside. 

All seemed waiting for something to break up 
the party, and no one had the courage to do it. 
The major’s decision took every one by surprise, 
and Amy and Casimer looked as if they had 
fallen from the clouds. 

The persistency with which the English les- 
sons had gone on was amazing, for Amy usually 
tired of everything in a day or two. Now, how- 
ever, she was a devoted teacher, and her pupil 
did her great credit by the rapidity with which 


250 Proverb Stories 

he caught the language. It looked like pleasant 
play, sitting among the roses day after day, 
Amy affecting to embroider while she taught, 
Casimer marching to and fro on the wide, low 
wall, below which lay the lake, while he learned 
his lesson; then standing before her to recite, 
or lounging on the turf in frequent fits of idle- 
ness, both talking and laughing a great deal, and 
generally forgetting everything but the pleasure 
of being together. They wrote little notes as 
exercises — Amy in French, Casimer in Eng- 
lish, and each corrected the other’s. 

All very well for a time; but as the notes in- 
creased the corrections decreased, and at last 
nothing was said of ungrammatical French or 
comical English and the little notes were ex- 
changed in silence.^ 

As Amy took her place that day she looked 
forlorn, and when her pupil came her only wel- 
come was a reproachful — 

“ You are very late, sir.” 

It is fifteen of minutes yet to ten clocks,” 
was Casimer’s reply, in his best English. 

** Ten o’clock, and leave out ‘ of ’ before min- 
utes. How many times must I tell you that ? ” 
said Amy, severely, to cover her first mistake. 

‘‘ Ah, not many times ; soon all goes to finish, 
and I have none person to make this charming 
English go in my so stupide head.” 

“ What will you do then ? ” 

I jeter myself into the lake.” 


The Baron’s Gloves 251 

** Don^t be foolish ; I 'm dull to-day, and want 
to be cheered up; suicide isn't a pleasant sub- 
ject." 

Good ! See here, then — a little plaisanterie 

— what you call joke. Can you will to see it? " 
and he laid a little pink cocked-hat note on her 
lap, looking like a mischievous boy as he did so. 

‘‘‘Mon Casimer Teblinski;' I see no joke;" 
and Amy was about to tear it up, when he caught 
it from destruction, and holding it out of reach, 
said, laughing wickedly, — 

“ The ‘ mon ' is one abbreviation of ‘ mon- 
sieur,' but you put no little — how do you say? 

— period at the end of him; it goes now in Eng- 
lish — ‘My Casimer Teblinski,' and that is of 
the most charming address." 

Amy colored, but had her return shot ready. 

“ Don't exult ; that was only an oversight, not 
a deliberate deception like that you put upon me. 
It was very wrong and rude, and I shall not for- 
give it." 

Mon Dieu! where have I gone in sinning? 
I am a polisson, as I say each day, but not a vil- 
lain, I swear to you. Say to me that which I 
have made of wrong, and I will do penance." 

“You told me ‘Mo drogha' was the Polish 
for ‘ My pupil,' and let me call you so a long 
time; I am wiser now," replied Amy, with great 
dignity. 

“ Who has said stupidities to you, that you 
doubt me?" and Casimer assumed an injured 


252 Proverb Stories 

look, though his eyes danced with merriment. 

‘‘ I heard Hoffman singing a Polish song to 
little Roserl, the burden of which was, ' Ma 
drogha, Ma drogha/ and when I asked him to 
translate it, those two words meant, ‘ My darling.’ 
How dare you, ungrateful creature that you are ! ” 

As Amy spoke, half-confusedly, half-angrily, 
Casimer went down upon his knees, with folded 
hands and penitent face, exclaiming, in good 
English, — 

** Be merciful to me a sinner. I was tempted, 
and I could not resist.” 

‘‘ Get up this instant, and stop laughing. Say 
your lesson, for this will be your last,” was the 
stern reply, though Amy’s face dimpled all over 
with suppressed merriment. 

He rose meekly, but made such sad work with 
the verb ‘‘ To love,” that his teacher was glad 
to put an end to it, by proposing to read her 
French to him. It was “ Thaddeus of Warsaw,” 
a musty little translation which she had found in 
the house, and begun for her own amusement. 
Casimer read a little, seemed interested, and sug- 
gested that they read it together, so that he might 
correct her accent. Amy agreed, and they were 
in the heart of the sentimental romance, finding 
it more interesting than most modern readers, 
for the girl had an improved Thaddeus before 
her, and the Pole a fairer, kinder Mary Beaufort. 

Dangerous times for both, but therein lay the 
charm; for, though Amy said to herself each 


The Baron’s Gloves 253 

night, Sick, Catholic, and a foreigner, — it can 
never be,’’ yet each morning she felt, with increas- 
ing force, how blank her day would be without 
him. And Casimer, honorably restraining every 
word of love, yet looked volumes, and in spite 
of the glasses, the girl felt the eloquence of the 
fine eyes they could not entirely conceal. 

To-day, as she read, he listened with his head 
leaning on his hand, and though she never had 
read worse, he made no correction, but sat so 
motionless, she fancied at last that he had actu- 
ally fallen asleep. Thinking to rouse him, she 
said, in French, — 

‘‘Poor Thaddeus! don’t you pity him? — 
alone, poor, sick, and afraid to own his love.” 

“ No, I hate him, the absurd imbecile, with 
his fine boots and plumes, and tragedy airs. He 
was not to be pitied, for he recovered health, he 
found a fortune, he won his Marie. His suffer- 
ings were nothing; there was no fatal blight on 
him, and he had time and power to conquer his 
misfortunes, while I — ” 

Casimer spoke with sudden passion, and paus- 
ing abruptly, turned his face away, as if to hide 
some emotion he was too proud to show. 

Amy’s heart ached, and her eyes filled, but her 
voice was sweet and steady, as she said, putting 
by the book, like one weary of it, — 

“ Are you suffering to-day ? Can we do any- 
thing for you? Please let us, if we may.” 

“ You give me all I can receive ; no one can 


2 54 Proverb Stories 

help my pain yet; but a time will come when 
something may be done for me; then I will 
speak.” And, to her great surprise, he rose and 
left her, without another word. 

She saw him no more till evening; then he 
looked excited, played stormily, and would sing 
in defiance of danger. The trouble in Amy’s face 
seemed reflected in Helen’s, though not a word 
had passed between them. She kept her eye on 
Casimer, with an intentness that worried Amy, 
and even when he was at the instrument Helen 
stood near him, as if fascinated, watching the 
slender hands chase one another up and down 
the keys with untiring strength and skill. 

Suddenly she left the room and did not re- 
turn. Amy was so nervous by that time, she 
could restrain herself no longer, and slipping out, 
found her cousin in their chamber, poring over 
a glove. 

“Oh, Nell, what is it? You are so odd to- 
night I can’t understand you. The music ex- 
cites me, and I ’m miserable, and I want to know 
what has happened,” she said, tearfully. 

“ I ’ve found him ! ” whispered Helen, eagerly, 
holding up the glove with a gesture of triumph. 

“Who?” asked Amy, blinded by her tears. 

“ The baron.” 

“Where? — when?” cried the girl, amazed. 

“ Here, and now.” 

“ Don’t take my breath away ; tell me quick, 
or I shall get hysterical.” 


The Baron’s Gloves 255 

“ Casimer is Sigismund Palsdorf, and no more 
a Pole than I am,” was Helen's answer. 

Amy dropped in a heap on the floor, not faint- 
ing, but so amazed she had neither strength nor 
breath left. Sitting by her, Helen rapidly went 
on, — 

I had a feeling as if something was wrong, 
and began to watch. The feeling grew, but I 
discovered nothing till to-day. It will make you 
laugh, it was so unromantic. As I looked over 
uncle’s things when the laundress brought them 
this afternoon, I found a collar that was not his. 
It was marked ‘ S. P.,’ and I at once felt a great 
desire to know who owned it. The woman was 
waiting for her money, and I asked her. ‘ Mon- 
sieur Pologne,’ she said, for his name is too 
much for her. She took it into his room, and 
that was the end of it.” 

But it may be another name; the initials 
only a coincidence,” faltered Amy, looking 
frightened. 

''No, dear, it isn’t; there is more to come. 
Little Roserl came crying through the hall an 
hour ago, and I asked what the trouble was. 
She showed me a prettily-bound prayer-book 
which she had taken from the Pole’s room to 
play with, and had been ordered by her mother 
to carry back. I looked into it; no name, but 
the same coat-of-arms as the glove and the hand- 
kerchief. To-night as he played I examined his 
hands; they are peculiar, and some of the pecu- 


256 Proverb Stories 

liarities have left traces on the glove. I am sure 
it is he, for on looking back many things confirm 
the idea. He says he is a polisson, a rogue, fond 
of jokes, and clever at playing them. The Ger- 
mans are famous for masquerading and practical 
jokes; this is one^ I am sure, and uncle will be 
terribly angry if he discovers it.” 

But why all this concealment?” cried Amy. 
‘‘Why play jokes on us? You look so worried 
I know you have not told me all you know or 
fear.” 

“ I confess I do fear that these men are polit- 
ical plotters as well as exiles. There are many 
such, and they make tools of rich and ignorant 
foreigners to further their ends. Uncle is rich, 
generous, and unsuspicious ; and I fear that 
while apparently serving and enjoying us they 
are using him.” 

“ Heavens, it may be ! and that would account 
for the change we see in him. I thought he was 
in love with the widow, but that may be only 
a cloak to hide darker designs. Karl brought 
us here, and I dare say it is a den of conspira- 
tors ! ” cried Amy, feeling as if she were getting 
more of an adventure than she had bargained for. 

“ Don't be alarmed ! I am on the watch, and 
mean to demand an explanation from uncle, or 
take you away on my own responsibility, if I 
can.” 

Here a maid tapped to say that tea was served. 

“We must go down, or some one will suspect 


The Baron’s Gloves 257 

trouble. Plead headache to excuse your paleness, 
and I ’ll keep people away. We will manage the 
affair and be off as soon as possible,” said Helen, 
as Amy followed her, too bewildered to answer. 

Casimer was not in the room, the major and 
Mrs. Cumberland were sipping tea side by side, 
and the professors roaming vaguely about. To 
leave Amy in peace, Helen engaged them both 
in a lively chat, and her cousin sat by the window 
trying to collect her thoughts. Some one was 
pacing up and down the garden, hatless, in the 
dew. 

Amy forgot everything but the danger of such 
exposure to her reckless friend. His cloak and 
hat lay on a chair; she caught them up and 
glided unperceived from the long window. 

You are so imprudent I fear for you, and 
bring your things,” said a timid voice, as the 
little white figure approached the tall black one, 
striding down the path tempestuously. 

You to think of me, forgetful of yourself! 
Little angel of kindness, why do you take such 
care of me?” cried Casimer, eagerly taking not 
only the cloak, but the hands that held it. 

‘‘ I pitied you because you were ill and lonely. 
You do not deserve my pity, but I forgive that, 
and would not see you suffer,” was the reproach- 
ful answer, as Amy turned away. 

But he held her fast, saying earnestly, — 

‘‘What have I done? You are angry. Tell 
me my fault and I will amend.” 


258 Proverb Stories 

** You have deceived me/* 

How?** 

“ Will you own the truth? ** and in her eager- 
ness to set her fears at rest, Amy forgot Helen. 

‘‘I will.** 

She could not see his face, but his voice was 
steady and his manner earnest. 

“ Tell me, then, is not your true name Sigis- 
mund Palsdorf?** 

He started, but answered instantly, — 

It is not.** 

“ You are not the baron? *’ cried Amy. 

“ No; I will swear it if you wish.*' 

“ Who, then, are you ? ** 

Shall I confess?** 

‘‘ Yes, I entreat you.** 

“ Remember, you command me to speak.** 

‘‘Ido. Who are you?** 

“ Your lover.** 

The words were breathed into her ear as softly 
as ardently, but they startled her so much she 
could find no reply, and, throwing himself down 
before her, Casimer poured out his passion with 
an impetuosity that held her breathless. 

“ Yes, I love you, and I tell it, vain and dis- 
honorable as it is in one like me. I try to hide 
it. I say ‘ it cannot be.* I plan to go away. But 
you keep me; you are angel-good to me; you 
take my heart, you care for me, teach me, pity 
me, and I can only love and die. I know it is 
folly ; I ask nothing ; I pray to God to bless you 


The Baron’s Gloves 259 

always, and I say, Go, go, before it is too late 
for you, as now for me ! 

“ Yes, I must go — it is all wrong. Forgive 
me. I have been very selfish. Oh, forget me 
and be happy,’’ faltered Amy, feeling that her 
only safety was in flight. 

Go ! go ! ” he cried, in a heart-broken tone, 
yet still kissed and clung to her hands till she 
tore them away and fled into the house. 

Helen missed her soon after she went, but 
could not follow for several minutes; then went 
to their chamber and there found Amy drowned 
in tears, and terribly agitated. 

Soon the story was told with sobs and moans, 
and despairing lamentations fit to touch a heart 
of stone. 

“ I do love him — oh, I do ; but I did n’t know 
it till he was so unhappy, and now I ’ve done this 
dreadful harm. He ’ll die, and I can’t help him, 
see him, or be anything to him. Oh, I ’ve been 
a wicked, wicked girl, and never can be happy 
any more.” 

Angry, perplexed, and conscience-stricken, for 
what now seemed blind and unwise submission to 
the major, Helen devoted herself to calming 
Amy, and when at last the poor, broken-hearted 
little soul fell asleep in her arms, she pondered 
half the night upon the still unsolved enigma of 
the Baron Sigismund. 


VIII 

MORE MYSTERY 

“ T JNCLE, can I speak to you a moment?” 

I I said Helen, very gravely, as they left 
the breakfast-room next morning. 

Not now, my dear, I ’m busy,” was the hasty 
reply, as the major shawled Mrs. Cumberland for 
an early promenade. 

Helen knit her brows irefully, for this answer 
had been given her half a dozen times lately 
when she asked for an interview. It was evident 
he wished to avoid all lectures, remonstrances, 
and explanations; and it was also evident that 
he was in love with the widow. 

‘‘Lovers are worse than lunatics to manage, 
so it is vain to try to get any help from him,” 
sighed Helen, adding, as her uncle was gallantly 
leading his stout divinity away into the garden: 
“ Amy has a bad headache, and I shall stay to 
take care of her, so we can^t join your party to 
Chillon, sir. We have been there once, so you 
need n’t postpone it for us.” 

“ Very well, my dear,” and the major walked 
away, looking much relieved. 


The Baron’s Gloves 261 

As Helen was about to leave the salon Casl- 
mer appeared. A single glance at her face as- 
sured him that she knew all, and instantly assum- 
ing a confiding, persuasive air that was irresist- 
ible, he said, meekly, — 

“ Mademoiselle, I do not deserve a word from 
you, but it desolates me to know that I have 
grieved the little angel who is too dear to me. 
For her sake, pardon that I spoke my heart in 
spite of prudence, and permit me to send her 
this.’^ 

Helen glanced from the flowers he held to his 
beseeching face, and her own softened. He 
looked so penitent and anxious, she had not the 
heart to reproach him. 

‘‘ I will forgive you and carry your gift to 
Amy on one condition,’’ she said, gravely. 

Ah, you are kind ! Name, then, the condi- 
tion, I implore you, and I will agree.” 

“ Tell me, then, on your honor as a gentleman, 
are you not Baron Palsdorf?” 

“ On my honor as a gentleman, I swear to you 
I am not.” 

“ Are you, in truth, what you profess to be ? ” 

** I am, in truth, Amy’s lover, your devoted 
servant, and a most unhappy man, with but a 
little while to live. Believe this and pity me, 
dearest Mademoiselle Helene.” 

She did pity him, her eyes betrayed that, and 
her voice was very kind, as she said, — 

Pardon my doubts. I trust you now, and 


262 Proverb Stories 

wish with all my heart that it was possible to 
make you happy. You know it is not, therefore 
I am sure you will be wise and generous, and 
spare Amy further grief by avoiding her for the 
little time we stay. Promise me this, Casimer.” 

“ I may see her if I am dumb? Do not deny 
me this. I will not speak, but I must look at my 
little and dear angel when she is near.’’ 

He pleaded so ardently with lips and hands, 
and eager eyes, that Helen could not deny him, 
and when he had poured out his thanks she left 
him, feeling very tender toward the unhappy 
young lover, whose passion was so hopeless, yet 
so warm. 

Amy was at breakfast in her room, sobbing 
and sipping, moaning and munching, for, though 
her grief was great, her appetite was good, and 
she was in no mood to see anything comical in 
cracking eggshells while she bewailed her broken 
heart, or in eating honey in the act of lamenting 
the bitterness of her fate. 

Casimer would have become desperate had he 
seen her in the little blue wrapper, with her bright 
hair loose on her shoulders, and her pretty face 
wet with tears, as she dropped her spoon to seize 
his flowers, — three dewy roses, one a bud, one 
half and the other fully blown, making a fragrant 
record and avowal of the love which she must 
renounce. 

‘‘ Oh, my dear boy ! how can I give him up, 
when he is so fond, and I am all he has ? Helen, 


The Baron’s Gloves 263 

uncle must let me write or go to mamma. She 
shall decide ; I can’t ; and no one else has a right 
to part us/’ sobbed Amy, over her roses. 

“ Casimer will not marry, dear ; he is too gen- 
erous to ask such a sacrifice,” began Helen, but 
Amy cried indignantly, — 

It is no sacrifice ; I ’m rich. What do I care 
for his poverty? ” 

‘‘ His religion 1 ” hinted Helen, anxiously. 

“ It need not part us ; we can believe what 
we will. He is good; why mind whether he is 
Catholic or Protestant?” 

‘‘ But a Pole, Amy, so different in tastes, hab- 
its, character, and beliefs. It is a great risk to 
marry a foreigner ; races are so unlike.” 

“ I don’t care if he is a Tartar, a Calmuck, or 
any of the other wild tribes ; I love him, he loves 
me, and no one need object if I don’t.” 

But, dear, the great and sad objection still 
remains — his health. He just said he had but 
a little while to live.” 

Amy’s angry eyes grew dim, but she answered, 
with soft earnestness, — 

So much the more need of me to make that 
little while happy. Think how much he has suf- 
fered and done for others; surely I may do 
something for him. Oh, Nell, can I let him die 
alone and in exile, when I have both heart and 
home to give him? ” 

Helen could say no more ; she kissed and com- 
forted the faithful little soul, feeling all the while 


264 Proverb Stories 

such sympathy and tenderness that she wondered 
at herself, for with this interest in the love of 
another came a sad sense of loneliness, as if she 
was denied the sweet experience that every 
woman longs to know. 

Amy never could remain long under a cloud, 
and seeing Helen’s tears, began to cheer both her 
cousin and herself. 

‘‘ Hoffman said he might live with care, don’t 
you remember? and Hoffman knows the case 
better than we. Let us ask him if Casimer is 
worse. You do it; I can’t without betraying 
myself.” 

“ I will,” and Helen felt grateful for any pre- 
text to address a friendly word to Karl, who had 
looked sad of late, and had been less with them 
since the major became absorbed in Mrs. Cum- 
berland. 

Leaving Amy to compose herself, Helen went 
away to find Hoffman. It was never difficult, 
for he seemed to divine her wishes and appear 
uncalled the moment he was wanted. Hardly 
had she reached her favorite nook in the garden 
when he approached with letters, and asked with 
respectful anxiety, as she glanced at and threw 
them by with an impatient sigh, — 

‘‘Has mademoiselle any orders? Will the 
ladies drive, sail, or make a little expedition? 
It is fine, and mademoiselle looks as if the air 
would refresh her. Pardon that I make the sug- 
gestion.” 


The Baron’s Gloves 265 

No, Hoffman, I don’t like the air of this 
place, and intend to leave as soon as possible.” 
And Helen knit her delicate dark brows with an 
expression of great determination. ‘‘ Switzerland 
is the refuge of political exiles, and I hate plots 
and disguises; I feel oppressed by some mystery, 
and mean to solve or break away from it at 
once.” 

She stopped abruptly, longing to ask his help, 
yet withheld by a sudden sense of shyness in ap- 
proaching the subject, though she had decided 
to speak to Karl of the Pole. 

“ Can I serve you, mademoiselle? If so, pray 
command me,” he said, eagerly, coming a step 
nearer. 

“ You can, and I intend to ask your advice, 
for there can be nothing amiss in doing so, since 
you are a friend of Casimer’s.” 

“ I am both friend and confidant, mademoi- 
selle,” he answered, as if anxious to let her un- 
derstand that he knew all, without the embarrass- 
ment of words. She looked up quickly, relieved, 
yet troubled. 

He has told you, then ? ” 

“ Everything, mademoiselle. Pardon me if 
this afflicts you; I am his only friend here, and 
the poor lad sorely needed comfort.” 

“ He did. I am not annoyed ; I am glad, for 
I know you will sustain him. Now I may speak 
freely, and be equally frank. Please tell me if 
he is indeed fatally ill ? ” 


266 Proverb Stories 

It was thought so some months ago ; now 
I hope. Happiness cures many ills, and since he 
has loved, he has improved. I always thought 
care would save him ; he is worth it.” 

Hoffman paused, as if fearful of venturing 
too far; but Helen seemed to confide freely in 
him, and said, softly, — 

Ah, if it were only wise to let him be happy. 
It is so bitter to deny love.” 

God knows it is ! ” 

The exclamation broke from Hoffman as if 
an irrepressible impulse wrung it from him. 

Helen started, and for a moment neither spoke. 
She collected herself soonest, and without turn- 
ing, said, quietly, — 

‘‘ I have been troubled by a strong impression 
that Casimer is not what he seems. Till he 
denied it on his honor I believed him to be Baron 
Palsdorf. Did he speak the truth when he said 
he was not? ” 

‘‘ Yes, mademoiselle.” 

‘‘Then, Casimer Teblinski is his real name?” 

No answer. 

She turned sharply, and added, — 

“ For my cousin’s sake, I must know the truth. 
Several curious coincidences make me strongly 
suspect that he is passing under an assumed 
name.” 

Not a word said Hoffman, but looked on the 
ground, as motionless and expressionless as a 
statue. 


The Baron’s Gloves 267 

Helen lost patience, and in order to show how 
much she had discovered, rapidly told the story 
of the gloves, ring, handkerchief, prayer-book 
and collar, omitting all hint of the girlish ro- 
mance they had woven about these things. 

As she ended, Hoffman looked up with a curi- 
ous expression, in which confusion, amusement, 
admiration and annoyance seemed to contend. 

Mademoiselle,” he said, gravely, I am 
about to prove to you that I feel honored by the 
confidence you place in me. I cannot break my 
word, but I will confess to you that Casimer 
does not bear his own name.” 

I knew it ! ” said Helen, with a flash of tri- 
umph in her eyes. He is the baron, and no 
Pole. You Germans love masquerades and jokes. 
This is one, but I must spoil it before it is played 
out.” 

Pardon ; mademoiselle is keen, but in this 
she is mistaken. Casimer is not the baron; he 
did fight for Poland, and his name is known and 
honored there. Of this I solemnly assure you.” 

She stood up and looked him straight in the 
face. He met her eye to eye, and never wavered 
till her own fell. 

She mused a few minutes, entirely forgetful 
of herself in her eagerness to solve the mystery. 

Hoffman stood so near that her dress touched 
him, and the wind blew her scarf against his 
hand; and as she thought he watched her while 
his eyes kindled, his color rose, and once he 


268 


Proverb Stories 


Opened his lips to speak, but she moved at the 
instant, and exclaimed, — 

‘‘I have it!^’ 

“ Now for it,” he muttered, as if preparing 
for some new surprise or attack. % 

When uncle used to talk about the Polish 
revolution, there was, I remember a gallant 
young Pole who did something brave. The name 
just flashed on me, and it clears up my doubts. 
Stanislas Prakora — ‘ S. P.’ — and Casimer is 
the man.” 

Helen spoke with an eager, bright face, as if 
sure of the truth now; but, to her surprise, 
Hoffman laughed, a short, irrepressible laugh, 
full of hearty but brief merriment. He sobered 
in a breath, and with an entire change of counte- 
nance said, in an embarrassed tone, — 

** Pardon my rudeness ; mademoiselfe’s acute- 
ness threw me off my guard. I can say nothing 
till released from my promise; but mademoi- 
selle may rest assured that Casimer Teblinski 
is as good and brave a man as Stanislas Pra- 
kora.” 

Helen’s eyes sparkled, for in this reluctant 
reply she read confirmation of her suspicion, and 
thought that Amy would rejoice to learn that 
her lover was a hero. 

“ You are exiles, but still hope and plot, and 
never relinquish your hearts’ desire?” 

Never, mademoiselle! ” 

‘‘ You are in danger? ” 


The Baron’s Gloves 269 

“ In daily peril of losing all we most love and 
long for/’ answered Karl, with such passion that 
Helen found patriotism a lovely and inspiring 
thing. 

“You have enemies?” she asked, unable to 
control her interest, and feeling the charm of 
these confidences. 

“ Alas ! yes,” was the mournful reply, as Karl 
dropped his eyes to hide the curious expression 
of mirth which he could not banish from them. 

“ Can you not conquer them, or escape the 
danger they place you in? ” 

“ We hope to conquer, we cannot escape.” 

“ This accounts for your disguise and Casi- 
mer’s false name? ” 

“ Yes. We beg that mademoiselle will pardon 
us the anxiety and perplexity we have caused her, 
and hope that a time will soon arrive when we 
may be ourselves. I fear the romantic interest 
with which the ladies have honored us will be 
much lessened, but we shall still remain their 
most humble and devoted servants.” 

Something in his tone nettled Helen, and she 
said sharply, — 

“ All this may be amusing to you, but it spoils 
my confidence in others to know they wear masks. 
Is your name also false ? ” 

“ I am Karl Hoffman, as surely as the sun 
shines, mademoiselle. Do not wound me by a 
doubt,” he said, eagerly. 

“ And nothing more ? ” 


270 Proverb Stories 

She smiled as she spoke, and glanced at his 
darkened skin with a shake of the head. 

‘‘ I dare not answer that.^’ 

' No matter.; I hate titles, and value people 
for their own worth, not for their rank.’’ 

Helen spoke impulsively, and, as if carried 
away by her words and manner, Hoffman caught 
her hand and pressed his lips to it ardently, 
dropped it, and was gone, as if fearing to trust 
himself a moment longer. 

Helen stood where he left her, thinking, with 
a shy glance from her hand to the spot where 
he had stood, — 

It is pleasant to have one’s hand kissed, as 
Amy said. Poor Karl, his fate is almost as hard 
as Casimer’s.” 

Some subtile power seemed to make the four 
young people shun one another carefully, though 
all longed to be together. The major appeared 
to share the secret disquiet that made the rest 
roam listlessly about, till little Roserl came to 
invite them to a fete in honor of the vintage. All 
were glad to go, hoping in the novelty and ex- 
citement to recover their composure. 

The vineyard sloped up from the chateau, and 
on the hillside was a small plateau of level sward, 
shadowed by a venerable oak now hung with 
garlands, while underneath danced the chateau 
servants with their families, to the music of a 
pipe played by little Friedel. As the gentlefolk 
approached, the revel stopped, but the major, 


The Baron’s Gloves 271 

who was in an antic mood and disposed to be 
gracious, bade Friedel play on, and as Mrs. Cum- 
berland refused his hand with a glance at her 
weeds, the major turned to the Count’s buxom 
housekeeper, and besought her to waltz with him. 
She assented, and away they went as nimbly as 
the best. Amy laughed, but stopped to blush, 
as Casimer came up with an imploring glance, 
and whispered, — 

“ Is it possible that I may enjoy one divine 
waltz with you before I go? ” 

Amy gave him her hand with a glad assent, 
and Helen was left alone. Every one was dan- 
cing but herself and Hoffman,who stood near 
by, apparently unconscious of the fact. He 
glanced covertly at her, and saw that she was 
beating time with foot and hand, that her eyes 
shone, her lips smiled. He seemed to take cour- 
age at this, for, walking straight up to her, he 
said, as coolly as if a crown-prince, — 

‘‘ Mademoiselle, may I have the honor?” 

A flash of surprise passed over her face, but 
there was no anger, pride, or hesitation in her 
manner, as she leaned toward him with a quiet 
Thanks, monsieur.” 

A look of triumph was in his eyes as he swept 
her away to dance, as she had never danced be- 
fore, for a German waltz is full of life and spirit, 
wonderfully captivating to English girls, and 
German gentlemen make it a memorable experi- 
ence when they please. As they circled round 


Proverb Stories 


272 

the rustic ball-room, Hoffman never took his 
eyes off Helen’s, and, as if fascinated, she looked 
up at him, half conscious that he was reading 
her heart as she read his. He said not a word, 
but his face grew very tender, very beautiful in 
her sight, as she forgot everything except that 
he had saved her life and she loved him. When 
they paused, she was breathless and pale; he 
also; and seating her he went away to bring her 
a glass of wine. As her dizzy eyes grew clear, 
she saw a little case at her feet, and taking it 
up, opened it. A worn paper, containing some 
faded forget-me-nots and these words, fell out, — 
‘‘ Gathered where Helen sat on the night of 
August loth.” 

There was just time to restore its contents to 
the case, when Hoffman returned, saw it, and 
looked intensely annoyed as he asked, quickly, — 
‘‘ Did you read the name on it? ” 

‘‘ I saw only the flowers ; ” and Helen colored 
beautifully as she spoke. 

And read them? he asked, with a look she 
could not meet. 

She was spared an answer, for just then a lad 
came up, saying, as he offered a note, — 

‘‘ Monsieur Hoffman, madame, at the hotel, 
sends you this, and begs you to come at once.” 

As he impatiently opened it, the wind blew 
the paper into Helen’s lap. She restored it, and 
in the act, her quick eye caught the signature, 
Thine ever, Ludmilla.’^ 


The Baron’s Gloves 273 

A slight shadow passed over her face, leaving 
it very cold and quiet. Hoffman saw the change, 
and smiled, as if well pleased, but assuming sud- 
denly his usual manner, said deferentially, — 
Will mademoiselle permit me to visit my 
friend for an hour ? — she is expecting me.’’ 

Go, then, we do not need you,” was the brief 
reply, in a careless tone, as if his absence was a 
thing of no interest to any one. 

Thanks ; I shall not be long away ; ” and giv- 
ing her a glance that made her turn scarlet with 
anger at its undisguised admiration, he walked 
away, humming gayly to himself Goethe’s 
lines, — 


“ Maiden’s heart and city’s wall 
Were made to yield, were made to fall ; 
When we’ve held them each their day, 
Soldier-like we march away.” 


IX 

S. P.’’ AND THE BARON 

D inner was over, and the salon deserted 
by all but the two young ladies, who sat 
apart, apparently absorbed in novels, 
while each was privately longing for somebody 
to come, and with the charming inconsistency 
of the fair sex, planning to fly if certain some- 
bodies did appear. 

Steps approached; both buried themselves in 
their books; both held their breath and felt their 
hearts flutter as they never had done before at 
the step of mortal man. The door opened; 
neither looked up, yet each was conscious of 
mingled disappointment and relief when the ma- 
jor said, in a grave tone, Girls, I ’ve something 
to tell you.” 

‘‘We know what it is, sir,” returned Helen, 
coolly. 

“ I beg your pardon, but you don’t, my dear, 
as I will prove in five minutes, if you will give 
me your attention.” 

The major looked as if braced up to some mo- 
mentous undertaking; and planting himself be- 


The Baron’s Gloves 275 

fore the two young ladies, dashed bravely into 
the subject. 

‘‘ Girls, I Ve played a bold game, but I Ve won 
it, and will take the consequences.’’ 

‘‘ They will fall heaviest on you, uncle,” said 
Helen, thinking he was about to declare his love 
for the widow. 

The major laughed, shrugged his shoulders, 
and answered, stoutly, — 

‘‘ I ’ll bear them ; but you are quite wrong, my 
dear, in your surmises, as you will soon see. 
Helen is my ward, and accountable to me alone. 
Amy’s mother gave her into my charge, and 
won’t reproach me for anything that has passed 
when I explain matters. As to the lads they 
must take care of themselves.” 

Suddenly both girls colored, fluttered, and be- 
came intensely interested. The major’s eyes 
twinkled as he assumed a perfectly impassive ex- 
pression, and rapidly delivered himself of the fol- 
lowing thunderbolt, — 

'' Girls, you have been deceived, and the young 
men you love are impostors.” 

“ I thought so,” muttered Helen, grimly. 

“ Oh, uncle, don’t, don’t say that ! ” cried Amy, 
despairingly. 

‘‘ It ’s true, my dears ; and the worst of it is, 
I knew the truth all the time. Now, don’t have 
hysterics, but listen and enjoy the joke as I do. 
At Coblentz, when you sat in the balcony, two 
young men overheard Amy sigh for adventures, 


276 Proverb Stories 

and Helen advise making a romance out of the 
gloves one of the lads had dropped. They had 
seen you by day; both admired you, and being 
idle, gay young fellows, they resolved to devote 
their vacation to gratifying your wishes and en- 
joying themselves. We met at the Fortress; I 
knew one of them, and liked the other immensely ; 
so when they confided their scheme to me I 
agreed to help them carry it out, as I had per- 
fect confidence in both, and thought a little ad- 
venture or two would do you good.” 

** Uncle, you were mad,” said Helen ; and Amy 
added, tragically, — 

You don’t know what trouble has come of 
it.” 

‘‘ Perhaps I was ; that remains to be proved. 
I do know everything, and fail to see any trouble, 
so don’t cry, little girl,” briskly replied the inex- 
plicable major. “ Well, we had a merry time 
planning our prank. One of the lads insisted 
on playing courier, though I objected. He ’d 
done it before, liked the part, and would have his 
way. The other could n’t decide, being younger 
and more in love; so we left him to come into 
the comedy when he was ready. Karl did cap- 
itally, as you will allow; and I am much at- 
tached to him, for in all respects he has been 
true to his word. He began at Coblentz; the 
other, after doing the mysterious at Heidelberg, 
appeared as an exile, and made quick work with 
the prejudices of my well-beloved nieces — hey, 
Amy?” 


The Baron’s Gloves 277 

“ Go on ; who are they ? ” cried both girls, 
breathlessly. 

“Wait a bit; I'm not bound to expose the 
poor fellows to your scorn and anger. No; if 
you are going to be high and haughty, to forget 
their love, refuse to forgive their frolic, and rend 
their hearts with reproaches, better let them re- 
main unknown." 

“No, no; we will forget and forgive, only 
speak ! " was the command of both. 

“ You promise to be lenient and mild, to let 
them confess their motives^ and to award a gentle 
penance for their sins ? " 

“ Yes, we promise! " 

“ Then, come in, my lads, and plead for your 
lives." 

As he spoke the major threw open the door, 
and two gentlemen entered the room — one, 
slight and dark, with brilliant black eyes; the 
other tall and large, with blond hair and beard. 
Angry, bewildered, and shame-stricken as they 
were, feminine curiosity overpowered all other 
feelings for the moment, and the girls sat look- 
ing at the culprits with eager eyes, full of instant 
recognition; for though the disguise was off, 
and neither had seen them in their true charac- 
ters but once, they felt no doubt, and involun- 
tarily exclaimed, — 

“ Karl!" 

“ Casimer." 

“ No, young ladies ; the courier and exile are 


278 Proverb Stories 

defunct, and from their ashes rise Baron Sigis- 
mund Palsdorf, my friend, and Sidney Power, 
my nephew. I give you one hour to settle the 
matter; then I shall return to bestow my bless- 
ing or to banish these scapegraces forever.’' 

And, having fired his last shot, the major pru- 
dently retreated, without waiting to see its effect. 

It was tremendous, for it carried confusion 
into the fair enemy’s camp; and gave the be- 
siegers a momentary advantage of which they 
were not slow to avail themselves. 

For a moment the four remained mute and 
motionless : then Amy, like all timid things, took 
refuge in flight, and Sidney followed her into 
the garden, glad to see the allies separated. 
Helen, with the courage of her nature, tried to 
face and repulse the foe; but love was stronger 
than pride, maiden shame overcame anger, and, 
finding it vain to meet and bear down the steady, 
tender glance of the blue eyes fixed upon her, 
she dropped her head into her hands and sat be- 
fore him, like one conquered but too proud to cry 
“ Quarter.” Her lover watched her till she hid 
her face, then drew near, knelt down before her, 
and said, with an undertone of deep feeling below 
the mirthful malice of his words, — 

“ Mademoiselle, pardon me that I am a foolish 
baron, and dare to offer you the title that you 
hate. I have served you faithfully for a month, 
and, presumptuous as it is, I ask to be allowed to 
serve you all my life. Helen, say you forgive the 
deceit for love’s sake.” 


The Baron’s Gloves 279 

‘‘ No ; you are false and forsworn. How can 
I believe that anything is true ? ” 

And Helen drew away the hand of which he 
had taken possession. 

“ Heart’s dearest, you trusted me in spite of 
my disguise; trust me still, and I will prove that 
I am neither false nor forsworn. Catechise me, 
and see if I was not true in spite of all my seem- 
ing deception.” 

‘‘ You said your name was Karl Hoffman,” 
began Helen, glad to gain a little time to calm 
herself before the momentous question came. 

‘‘ It is ; I have many, and my family choose to 
call me Sigismund,” was the laughing answer. 

“ I ’ll never call you so ; you shall be Karl, 
the courier, all your life to me,” cried Helen, still 
unable to meet the ardent eyes before her. 

‘‘ Good ; I like that well ; for it assures me 
that all my life I shall be something to you, my 
heart. What next ? ” 

“ When I asked if you were the baron, you 
denied it.” 

Pardon ! I simply said my name was Hoff- 
man. You did not ask me point blank if I was 
the baron; had you done so, I think I should 
have confessed all, for it was very hard to re- 
strain myself this morning.” 

"‘No, not yet; I have more questions;” and 
Helen warned him away, as it became evident 
that he no longer considered restraint necessary. 

“ Who is Ludmilla ? ” she said, sharply. 


28 o Proverb Stories 

My faith, that is superb ! exclaimed the 
baron, with a triumphant smile at her betrayal 
of jealousy. ‘‘How if she is a former love?’' 
he asked, with a sly look at her changing- face. 

“ It would cause me no surprise ; I am pre- 
pared for anything." 

“ How if she is my dearest sister, for whom I 
sent, that she might welcome you and bring the 
greetings of my parents to their new daughter ? " 

“ Is it, indeed, so ? " 

And Helen’s eyes dimmed as the thought of 
parents, home and love filled her heart with ten- 
derest gratitude, for she had long been an orphan. 

'' Leibchen, it is true; to-morrow you shall see 
how dear you already are to them, for I write 
often and they wait eagerly to receive you." 

Helen felt herself going very fast, and made an 
effort to harden her heart, lest too easy victory 
should reward this audacious lover. 

“ I may not go ; I also have friends, and in 
England we are not won in this wild way. I will 
yet prove you false; it will console me for being 
so duped if I can call you traitor. You said 
Casimer had fought in Poland." 

“ Crudest of women, he did, but under his 
own name, Sidney Power." 

“Then, he was not the brave Stanislas? — 
and there is no charming Casimer ? " 

“ Yes, there are both, — his and my friends, 
in Paris; true Poles, and when we go there you 
shall see them." 


The Baron’s Gloves 281 

** But his illness was a ruse? ” 

“No; he was wounded in the war and has 
been ill since. Not of a fatal malady, I own; 
his cough misled you, and he has no scruples in 
fabling to any extent. I am not to bear the 
burden of his sins.” 

“ Then, the romances he told us about your 
charity, your virtues, and — your love of lib- 
erty were false ? ” said Helen, with a keen glance, 
for these tales had done much to interest her in 
the unknown baron. 

Sudden color rose to his forehead, and for 
the first time his eyes fell before hers, — not in 
shame, but with a modest man's annoyance at 
hearing himself praised. 

“ Sidney is enthusiastic in his friendship, and 
speaks too well for me. The facts are true, but 
he doubtless glorified the simplest by his way 
of telling it. Will you forgive my follies, and 
believe me when I promise to play and duel no 
more ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

She yielded her hand now, and her eyes were 
full of happiness, yet she added, wistfully, — 

“ And the betrothed, your cousin, Minna, — 
is she, in truth, not dear to you ? ” 

“Very dear, but less so than another; for I 
could not learn of her in years what I learned in 
a day when I met you. Helen, this was begun 
in jest, — it ends in solemn earnest, for I love 
my liberty, and I have lost it, utterly and forever. 


282 Proverb Stories 

Yet I am glad ; look in my face and tell me you 
believe it** 

He spoke now as seriously as fervently, and 
with no shadow on her own, Helen brushed back 
the blond hair and looked into her lover's face. 
Truth, tenderness, power, and candor were writ- 
ten there in characters that could not lie; and 
with her heart upon her lips, she answered, as 
he drew her close, — 

“ I do believe, do love you, Sigismund I " 
Meanwhile another scene was passing in the 
garden. Sidney, presuming upon his cousinship, 
took possession of Amy, bidding her “ strike but 
hear him.” Of course she listened with the usual 
accompaniment of tears and smiles, reproaches 
and exclamations, varied by cruel exultations and 
coquettish commands to go away and never dare 
approach her again. 

Ma drogha, listen and be appeased. Years 
ago you and I played together as babies, and our 
fond mammas vowed we should one day mate. 
When I was a youth of fourteen and you a mite 
of seven I went away to India with my father, 
and at our parting promised to come back and 
marry you. Being in a fret because you could n't 
go also, you haughtily declined the honor, and 
when I offered a farewell kiss, struck me with 
this very little hand. Do you remember it ? '' 

‘‘ Not I. Too young for such nonsense.” 

“ I do, and I also remember that in my boyish 
way I resolved to keep my word sooner or later, 
and I Ve done it.’' 


The Baron’s Gloves 283 

“ We shall see, sir,'’ cried Amy, strongly 
tempted to repeat her part of the childish scene 
as well as her cousin, but her hand was not free, 
and he got the kiss without the blow. 

For eleven years we never met. You forgot 
me, and ‘ Cousin Sidney ' remained an empty 
name. I was in India till four years ago; since 
then I 've been flying about Germany and fight- 
ing in Poland, where I nearly got my quietus.” 

My dear boy, were you wounded ? ” 

“ Bless you, yes ; and very proud of it I am. 
I ’ll show you my scars some day ; but never 
mind that now. A while ago I went to England, 
seized with a sudden desire to find my wife.” 

** I admire your patience in waiting ; so flat- 
tering to me, you know,” was the sharp answer. 

“It looks like neglect, I confess; but I’d 
heard reports of your flirtations, and twice of 
your being engaged, so I kept away till my work 
was done. Was it true?” 

“ I never flirt, Sidney, and I was only engaged 
a little bit once or twice. I did n’t like it, and 
never mean to do so any more.” 

“ I shall see that you don’t flirt; but you are 
very much engaged now, so put on your ring 
and make no romances about any ‘ S. P.’ but 
myself.” 

“ I shall wait till you clear your character ; 
I ’m not going to care for a deceitful impostor. 
What made you think of this prank?” 

“ You did.” 


284 Proverb Stories 

“I? How?” 

When in England I saw your picture, though 
you were many a mile away, and fell in love with 
it. Your mother told me much about you, and 
I saw she would not frown upon my suit. I 
begged her not to tell you I had come, but let 
me find you and make myself known when I 
liked. You were in Switzerland, and I went 
after you. At Coblentz I met Sigismund, and 
told him my case; he is full of romance, and 
when we overheard you in the balcony we were 
glad of the hint. Sigismund was with me when 
you came, and admired Helen immensely, so he 
was wild to have a part in the frolic. I let him 
begin, and followed you unseen to Heidelberg, 
meaning to personate an artist. Meeting you 
at the castle, I made a good beginning with the 
vaults and the ring, and meant to follow it up 
by acting the baron, you were so bent on finding 
him, but Sigismund forbade it. Turning over 
a trunk of things left there the year before, I 
came upon my old Polish uniform, and decided 
to be a Thaddeus.’^ 

How well you did it! Wasn't it hard to act 
all the time ? " asked Amy, wonderingly. 

“ Very hard with Helen, she is so keen, but 
not a bit so with you, for you are such a confid- 
ing soul any one could cheat you. I Ve betrayed 
myself a dozen times, and you never saw it. Ah, 
it was capital fun to play the forlorn exile, study 
English, and flirt with my cousin." 


The Baron’s Gloves 285 

“ It was very base. I should think you 'd be 
devoured with remorse. Are n’t you sorry ? ” 

“ For one thing. I cropped my head lest you 
should know me. I was proud of my curls, but 
I sacrificed them all to you.” 

Peacock ! Did you think that one glimpse 
of your black eyes and fine hair would make such 
an impression that I should recognize you 
again ? ” 

I did, and for that reason disfigured my head, 
put on a mustache, and assumed hideous spec- 
tacles. Did you never suspect my disguise, 
Amy? ” 

No. Helen used to say that she felt some- 
thing was wrong, but I never did till the other 
night.” 

“ Did n’t I do that well ? I give you my word 
it was all done on the spur of the minute. I 
meant to speak soon, but had not decided how, 
when you came out so sweetly with that con- 
founded old cloak, of which I ’d no more need 
than an African has of a blanket. Then a scene 
I ’d read in a novel came into my head, and I 
just repeated it con amore. Was I very pathetic 
and tragical, Amy ? ” 

I thought so then. It strikes me as ridic- 
ulous now, and I can’t help feeling sorry that I 
wasted so much pity on a man who — ” 

‘‘ Loves you with all his heart and soul. Did 
you cry and grieve over me, dear little tender 
thing? and do you think now that I am a heart- 


286 


Proverb Stories 


less fellow, bent only on amusing myself at the 
expense of others ? It ’s not so ; and you shall 
see how true and good and steady I can be when 
I have any one to love and care for me. I Ve 
been alone so long it ’s new and beautiful to be 
petted, confided in, and looked up to by an angel 
like you.’’ 

He was in earnest now; she felt it, and her 
anger melted away like dew before the sun. 

“ Poor boy! You will go home with us now, 
and let us take care of you in quiet England. 
You ’ll play no more pranks, but go soberly to 
work and do something that shall make me proud 
to be your cousin, won’t you ? ” 

“ If you ’ll change * cousin ’ to ‘ wife ’ I ’ll be 
and do whatever you please. Amy, when I was 
a poor, dying. Catholic foreigner you loved me 
and would have married me in spite of every- 
thing. Now that I ’m your well, rich, Protestant 
cousin, who adores you as that Pole never could, 
you turn cold and cruel. Is it because the ro- 
mance is gone, or because your love was only a 
girl’s fancy, after all?” 

You deceived me and I can’t forget it ; but 
I ’ll try,” was the soft answer to his reproaches. 

‘‘ Are you disappointed that I ’m not a 
baron?” 

‘‘ A little bit.” 

“ Shall I be a count? They gave me a title 
in Poland, a barren honor, but all they had to 
offer, poor souls, in return for a little blood. 


The Baron’s Gloves 287 

Will you be Countess Zytomar and get laughed 
at for your pains, or plain Mrs. Power, with a 
good old English name? 

‘‘ Neither, thank you ; it 's only a girlish fancy, 
which will soon be forgotten. Does the baron 
love Helen ? ’’ asked Amy, abruptly. 

‘‘ Desperately, and she ? ” 

I think he will be happy ; she is not one to 
make confidantes, but I know by her tenderness 
with me, her sadness lately, and something in 
her way of brightening when he comes, that she 
thinks much of him and loves Karl Hoffman. 
How it will be with the baron I cannot say.” 

‘‘No fear of him; he wins his way every- 
where. I wish I were as fortunate ; ” and the 
gay young gentleman heaved an artful sigh and 
coughed the cough that always brought such pity 
to the girl’s soft eyes. 

She glanced at him as he leaned pensively on 
the low wall, looking down into the lake, with 
the level rays of sunshine on his comely face and 
figure. Something softer than pity stole into 
her eye, as she said, anxiously, — 

“You are not really ill, Sidney?” 

“ I have been, and still need care, else I may 
have a relapse,” was the reply of this treacherous 
youth, whose constitution was as sound as a bell. 

Amy clasped her hands, as if in a transport 
of gratitude, exclaiming, fervently, — 

“ What a relief it is to know that you are not 
doomed to — ” 


288 


Proverb Stories 


She paused with a shiver, as if the word were 
too hard to utter, and Sidney turned to her with 
a beaming face, which changed to one of mingled 
pain and anger, as she added, with a wicked 
glance, — 

Wear spectacles/’ 

Amy, you Ve got no heart ! ” he cried, in a 
tone that banished her last doubt of his love and 
made her whisper tenderly, as she clung to his 
arm, — 

‘‘ No, dear; I Ve given it all to you.” 

Punctual to the minute. Major Erskine 
marched into the salon, with Mrs. Cumberland 
on his arm, exclaiming, as he eyed the four young 
people together again, — 

“ Now, ladies, is it to be ‘ Paradise Lost ’ or 
‘ Regained ’ for the prisoners at the bar? ” 

At this point the astonished gentleman found 
himself taken possession of by four excited indi- 
viduals, for the girls embraced and kissed him, 
the young men wrung his hand and thanked him, 
and all seemed bent on assuring him that they 
were intensely happy, grateful and affectionate. 

From this assault he emerged flushed and 
breathless, but beaming with satisfaction, and 
saying paternally, — 

'' Bless you, my children, bless you. I hoped 
and worked for this, and to prove how well I 
practise what I preach, let me present to you — 
my wife.” 

As he drew forward the plump widow with 


The Baron’s Gloves 289 

a face full of smiles and tears, a second rush 
was made, and congratulations, salutes, excla- 
mations and embraces were indulged in to every 
one’s satisfaction. 

As the excitement subsided the major said, 
simply, — 

‘'We were married yesterday at Montreaux. 
Let me hope that you will prove as faithful as I 
have been, as happy as I am, as blest as I shall 
be. I loved this lady in my youth, have waited 
many years, and am rewarded at last, for love 
never comes too late.” 

The falter in his cheery voice, the dimness of 
his eyes, the smile on his lips, and the gesture 
with which he returned the pressure of the hand 
upon his arm, told the little romance of the good 
major’s life more eloquently than pages of fine 
writing, and touched the hearts of those who 
loved him. 

“ I have been faithful for eleven years. Give 
me my reward soon, won’t you, dear ? ” whis- 
pered Sidney. 

“ Don’t marry me to-morrow, and if mamma 
is willing I ’ll think about it by and by,” an- 
swered Amy. 

“ It is beautiful ! let us go and do likewise,” 
said Sigismund to his betrothed. 

But Helen, anxious to turn the thoughts of 
all from emotions too deep for words, drew from 
her pocket a small pearl-colored object, which 
she gave to Amy with mock solemnity, as she 


290 Proverb Stories 

said, turning to lay her hand again in her lov- 
er’s, — 

“ Amy, our search is over. You may keep the 
gloves ; I have the baron.” 


MY RED CAP 

He who serves well need not fear to ask his wages.” 

I 

I T was under a blue cap that I first saw the 
honest face of Joe Collins. In the third 
year of the late war a Maine regiment was 
passing through Boston, on its way to Washing- 
ton. The Common was all alive with troops and 
the spectators who clustered round them to say 
God-speed, as the brave fellows marched away 
to meet danger and death for our sakes. 

Every one was eager to do something; and, 
as the men stood at ease, the people mingled 
freely with them, offering gifts, hearty grips of 
the hand, and hopeful prophecies of victory in 
the end. Irresistibly attracted, my boy Tom and 
I drew near, and soon, becoming excited by the 
scene, ravaged the fruit-stands in our neighbor- 
hood for tokens of our regard, mingling candy 
and congratulations, peanuts and prayers, apples 
and applause, in one enthusiastic jumble. 

While Tom was off on his third raid, my at- 
tention was attracted by a man who stood a little 
apart, looking as if his thoughts were far away. 
All the men were fine, stalwart fellows, as Maine 
men usually are; but this one over-topped his 


292 Proverb Stories 

comrades, standing straight and tall as a Nor- 
way pine, with a face full of the mingled shrewd- 
ness, sobriety, and self-possession of the typical 
New Englander. I liked the look of him; and, 
seeing that he seemed solitary, even in a crowd, 
I offered him my last apple with a word of in- 
terest. The keen blue eyes met mine gratefully, 
and the apple began to vanish in vigorous bites 
as we talked; for no one thought of ceremony 
at such a time. 

“ Where are you from? ” 

‘‘ Woolidge, ma'am.'’ 

“ Are you glad to go ? " 

“ Wal, there 's two sides to that question. I 
calk'late to do my duty, and do it hearty; but 
it is rough on a feller leavin' his folks, for good, 
maybe." 

There was a sudden huskiness in the man's 
voice that was not apple-skins, though he tried to 
make believe that it was, I knew a word about 
home would comfort him, so I went on with my 
questions. 

It is very hard. Do you leave a family?" 

“ My old mother, a sick brother, — and Lu- 
cindy." 

The last word was uttered in a tone of intense 
regret, and his brown cheek reddened as he added 
hastily, to hide some embarrassment, — 

You see, Jim went last year, and got pretty 
well used up ; so I felt as if I 'd ought to take 
my turn now. Mother was a regular old hero 


My Red Cap 293 

about it and I dropped everything, and come off. 
Lucindy did n’t think it was my duty ; and that 
made it awful hard, I tell you.” 

‘‘ Wives are less patriotic than mothers,” I 
began; but he would not hear Lucindy blamed, 
and said quickly, — 

She ain’t my wife yet, but we calk’lated to 
be married in a month or so; and it was wus 
for her than for me, women lot so on not being 
disappointed. I couldn't shirk, and here I be. 
When I git to work, I shall be all right : the first 
wrench is the tryin’ part.” 

Here he straightened his broad shoulders, and 
turned his face toward the flags fluttering far in 
front, as if no backward look should betray the 
longing of his heart for mother, home, and wife. 
I liked that little glimpse of character; and when 
Tom returned with empty hands, reporting that 
every stall was exhausted, I told him to find out 
what the man would like best, then run across 
the street and get it. 

I know without asking. Give us your purse, 
and I ’ll make him as happy as a king,” said the 
boy, laughing, as he looked up admiringly at our 
tall friend, who looked down on him with an 
elder-brotherly air pleasant to see. While Tom 
was gone, I found out Joe’s name and business, 
promised to write and tell his mother how finely 
the regiment went off, and was just expressing 
a hope that we might meet again, for I too was 
going to the war as nurse, when the order to 


2 94 Proverb Stories 

“ Fall in ! ” came rolling down the ranks, and the 
talk was over. Fearing Tom would miss our 
man in the confusion, I kept my eye on him till 
the boy came rushing up with a packet of to- 
bacco in one hand and a good supply of cigars in 
the other. Not a romantic offering, certainly, 
but a very acceptable one, as Joe’s face proved, 
as we scrambled these treasures into his pockets, 
all laughing at the flurry, while less fortunate 
comrades helped us, with an eye to a share of 
these fragrant luxuries by and by. There was 
just time for this, a hearty shake of the big hand, 
and a grateful “ Good-by, ma’am ; ” then the 
word was given, and they were off. Bent on 
seeing the last of them, Tom and I took a short 
cut, and came out on the wide street down which 
so many troops marched that year; and, mount- 
ing some high steps, we watched for our man, as 
we already called him. 

As the inspiring music, the grand tramp, drew 
near, the old thrill went through the crowd, the 
old cheer broke out. But it was a different scene 
now than in the first enthusiastic, hopeful days. 
Young men and ardent boys filled the ranks then, 
brave by instinct, burning with loyal zeal, and 
blissfully unconscious of all that lay before them. 
Now the blue coats were worn by mature men, 
some gray, all grave and resolute: husbands and 
fathers, with the memory of wives and children 
tug’g’ing at their heart-strings; homes left deso- 
late behind them, and before them the grim cer- 


My Red Cap 295 

tainty of danger, hardship, and perhaps the life- 
long helplessness worse than death. Little of the 
glamour of romance about the war now: they 
saw it as it was, a long, hard task; and here 
were the men to do it well. Even the lookers-on 
were different now. Once all was wild enthusi- 
asm and glad uproar; now men's lips were set, 
and women’s smileless as they cheered; fewer 
handkerchiefs whitened the air, for wet eyes 
needed them; and sudden lulls, almost solemn 
in their stillness, followed the acclamations of 
the crowd. All watched with quickened breath 
and brave souls that living wave, blue below, and 
bright with a steely glitter above, as it flowed 
down the street and away to distant battle-fields 
already stained with precious blood. 

“ There he is ! The outside man, and tallest 
of the lot. Give him a cheer, auntie : he sees us, 
and remembers ! ” cried Tom, nearly tumbling 
off his perch, as he waved his hat, and pointed 
out Joe Collins. 

Yes, there he was, looking up, with a smile on 
his brave brown face, my little nosegay in his 
button-hole, a suspicious bulge in the pocket 
close by, and doubtless a comfortable quid in his 
mouth, to cheer the weary march. How like an 
old friend he looked, though we had only met 
fifteen minutes ago; how glad we were to be 
there to smile back at him, and send him on his 
way feeling that, even in a strange city, there 
was some one to say, ‘‘God bless you, Joe!” 


296 Proverb Stories 

We watched the tallest blue cap till it vanished, 
and then went home in a glow of patriotism, — 
Tom to long for his turn to come, I to sew 
vigorously on the gray gown the new nurse 
burned to wear as soon as possible, and both of 
us to think and speak often of poor Joe Collins 
and his Lucindy. All this happened long ago; 
but it is well to recall those stirring times, — to 
keep fresh the memory of sacrifices made for us 
by men like these; to see to it that the debt we 
owe them is honestly, gladly paid; and, while 
we decorate the graves of those who died, to 
remember also those who still live to deserve our 
grateful care. 


II 

1 NEVER expected to see Joe again; but, 
six months later, we did meet in a Wash- 
ington hospital one winter^s night. A 
train of ambulances had left their sad freight 
at our door, and we were hurrying to get the 
poor fellows into much needed beds, after a 
week of hunger, cold, and unavoidable neglect. 
All forms of pain were in my ward that night, 
and all borne with the pathetic patience which 
was a daily marvel to those who saw it. 

Trying to bring order out of chaos, I was 
rushing up and down the narrow aisle between 
the rows of rapidly filling beds, and, after brush- 
ing several times against a pair of the largest 
and muddiest boots I ever saw, I paused at last 
to inquire why they were impeding the passage- 
way. I found they belonged to a very tall man 
who seemed to be already asleep or dead, so 
white and still and utterly worn out he looked as 
he lay there, without a coat, a great patch on his 
forehead, and the right arm rudely bundled up. 
Stooping to cover him, I saw that he was uncon- 
scious, and, whipping out my brandy-bottle and 


298 Proverb Stories 

salts, soon brought him round, for it was only 
exhaustion. 

“ Can you eat ?** 1 asked, as he said, ‘‘ Thanky, 
ma'am,’’ after a long draught of water and a 
dizzy stare. 

Eat ! I ’m starvin’ ! ” he answered, with 
such a ravenous glance at a fat nurse who hap- 
pened to be passing, that I trembled for her, and 
hastened to take a bowl of soup from her tray. 

As I fed him, his gaunt, weather-beaten face 
had a familiar look ; but so many such faces had 
passed before me that winter, I did not recall this 
one till the ward-master came to put up the cards 
with the new-comers’ names above their beds. 
My man seemed absorbed in his food; but I 
naturally glanced at the card, and there was the 
name Joseph Collins ” to give me an additional 
interest in my new patient. 

‘‘Why, Joe! is it really you?” I exclaimed, 
pouring the last spoonful of soup down his throat 
so hastily that I choked him. 

“ All that ’s left of me. Wal, ain’t this luck, 
now?” gasped Joe, as gratefully as if that hos- 
pital-cot was a bed of roses. 

“ What is the matter ? A wound in the head 
and arm?” I asked, feeling sure that no slight 
affliction had brought Joe there. 

“ Right arm gone. Shot off as slick as a whis- 
tle. I tell you, it ’s a sing’lar kind of a feelin’ 
to see a piece of your own body go flyin’ away, 
with no prospect of ever coming back again,” 


My Red Cap 299 

said Joe, trying to make light of one of the great- 
est misfortunes a man can suffer. 

“ That is bad, but it might have been worse. 
Keep up your spirits, Joe; and we will soon have 
you fitted out with a new arm almost as good 
as new.*' 

I guess it won’t do much lumberin’, so that 
trade is done for. I s’pose there ’s things left- 
handed fellers can do, and I must learn ’em as 
soon as possible, since my flightin’ days are over,” 
and Joe looked at his one arm with a sigh that 
was almost a groan, helplessness is such a trial 
to a manly man, — and he was eminently so. 

“What can I do to comfort you most, Joe? 
I ’ll send my good Ben to help you to bed, and 
will be here myself when the surgeon goes his 
rounds. Is there anything else that would make 
you more easy ? ” 

“ If you could just drop a line to mother to 
let her know I ’m alive, it would be a sight of 
comfort to both of us. I guess I ’m in for a long 
spell of hospital, and I ’d lay easier if I knew 
mother and Lucindy warn’t frettin’ about me.” 

He must have been suffering terribly, but he 
thought of the women who loved him before 
himself, and, busy as I was, I snatched a mo- 
ment to send a few words of hope to the old 
mother. Then I left him “ layin’ easy,” though 
the prospect of some months of wearing pain 
would have daunted most men. If I had needed 
anything to increase my regard for Joe, it would 


Proverb Stories 


300 

have been the courage with which he bore a very 
bad quarter of an hour with the surgeons; for 
his arm was in a dangerous state, the wound in 
the head feverish for want of care; and a heavy 
cold on the lungs suggested pneumonia as an 
added trial to his list of ills. 

He will have a hard time of it, but I think 
he will pull through, as he is a temperate fellow, 
with a splendid constitution/’ was the doctor’s 
verdict, as he left us for the next man, who was 
past help, with a bullet through his lungs. 

I don’no as I hanker to live, and be a burden. 
If Jim was able to do for mother, I feel as if I 
would n’t mind steppin’ out now I ’m so fur 
along. As he ain’t, I s’pose I must brace up, and 
do the best I can,” said Joe, as I wiped the drops 
from his forehead, and tried to look as if his 
prospect was a bright one. 

‘‘ You will have Lucindy to help you, you 
know ; and that will make things easier for all.” 

Think so? ’Pears to me I could n’t ask her 
to take care of three invalids for my sake. She 
ain’t no folks of her own, nor much means, and 
ought to marry a man who can make things 
easy for her. Guess I ’ll have to wait a spell 
longer before I say anything to Lucindy about 
marryin’ now ; ” and a look of resolute resigna- 
tion settled on Joe’s haggard face as he gave up 
his dearest hope. 

I think Lucindy will have something to say, 
if she is like most women, and you will find the 


My Red Cap 301 

burdens mucH lighter, for sharing them between 
you. Don’t worry about that, but get well, and 
go home as soon as you can.” 

“ All right, ma’am ; ” and Joe proved himself 
a good soldier by obeying orders, and falling 
asleep like a tired child, as the first step toward 
recovery. 

For two months I saw Joe daily, and learned 
to like him very much, he was so honest, genuine, 
and kind-hearted. So did his mates, for he made 
friends with them all by sharing such small lux- 
uries as came to him, for he was a favorite ; and, 
better still, he made sunshine in that sad place by 
the brave patience with which he bore his own 
troubles, the cheerful consolation he always gave 
to others. A droll fellow was Joe at times, for 
under his sobriety lay much humor; and I soon 
discovered that a visit from him was more effi- 
cacious than other cordials in cases of despond- 
ency and discontent. Roars of laughter some- 
times greeted me as I went into his ward, and 
Joe’s jokes were passed round as eagerly as the 
water-pitcher. 

Yet he had much to try him, not only in the 
ills that vexed his flesh, but the cares that tried 
his spirit, and the future that lay before him, 
full of anxieties and responsibilities which seemed 
so heavy now when the strong right arm, that 
had cleared all obstacles away before, was gone. 
The letters I wrote for him, and those he re- 
ceived, told the little story very plainly; for he 


302 Proverb Stories 

read them to me, and found much comfort in 
talking over his affairs, as most men do when 
illness makes them dependent on a woman. Jim 
was evidently sick and selfish. Lucindy, to judge 
from the photograph cherished so tenderly under 
Joe’s pillow, was a pretty, weak sort of a girl, 
with little character or courage to help poor Joe 
with his burdens. The old mother was very like 
her son, and stood by him like a hero,” as he 
said, but was evidently failing, and begged him 
to come home as soon as he was able, that she 
might see him comfortably settled before she 
must leave him. Her courage sustained his, and 
the longing to see her hastened his departure as 
soon as it was safe to let him go; for Lucindy’s 
letters were always of a dismal sort, and made 
him anxious to put his shoulder to the wheel. 

She always set consider’ble by me, mother 
did, bein’ the oldest ; and I would n’t miss makin’ 
her last days happy, not if it cost me all the arms 
and legs I ’ve got,” said Joe, as he awkwardly 
struggled into the big boots an hour after leave 
to go home was given him. 

It was pleasant to see his comrades gather 
round him with such hearty adieus that his one 
hand must have tingled ; to hear the good wishes 
and the thanks called after him by pale creatures 
in their beds; and to find tears in many eyes 
beside my own when he was gone, and nothing 
was left of him but the empty cot, the old gray 
wrapper, and the name upon the wall. 


My Red Cap 303 

I kept that card among my other relics, and 
hoped to meet Joe again somewhere in the world. 
He sent me one or two letters, then I went home ; 
the war ended soon after, time passed, and the 
little story of my Maine lumberman was laid 
away with many other experiences which made 
that part of my life a very memorable one. 


Ill 

S OME years later, as I looked out of my 
window one dull November day, the only 
cheerful thing I saw was the red cap of a 
messenger who was examining the slate that hung 
on a wall opposite my hotel. A tall man with 
gray hair and beard, one arm, and a blue army- 
coat. I always salute, figuratively at least, when 
I see that familiar blue, especially if one sleeve of 
the coat is empty; so I watched the messenger 
with interest as he trudged away on some new 
errand, wishing he had a better day and a thicker 
pair of boots. He was an unusually large, well- 
made man, and reminded me of a fine building go- 
ing to ruin before its time ; for the broad shoul- 
ders were bent, there was a stiffness about the 
long legs suggestive of wounds or rheumatism, 
and the curly hair looked as if snow had fallen on 
it too soon. Sitting at work in my window, I 
fell into the way of watching my Red Cap, as I 
called him, with more interest than I did the fat 
doves on the roof opposite, or the pert sparrows 
hopping in the mud below. I liked the steady 
way in which he plodded on through fair weather 
or foul, as if intent on doing well the one small 


My Red Cap 305 

service he had found to do. I liked his cheerful 
whistle as he stood waiting for a job under the 
porch of the public building where his slate hung, 
watching the luxurious carriages roll by, and the 
well-to-do gentlemen who daily passed him to 
their comfortable homes, with a steady, patient 
sort of face, as if wondering at the inequalities 
of fortune, yet neither melancholy nor morose 
over the small share of prosperity which had 
fallen to his lot. 

I often planned to give him a job, that I might 
see him nearer; but I had few errands, and little 
Bob, the hall-boy, depended on doing those: so 
the winter was nearly over before I found out 
that my Red Cap was an old friend. 

A parcel came for me one day, and bidding 
the man wait for an answer, I sat down to write 
it, while the messenger stood just inside the door 
like a sentinel on duty. When I looked up to 
give my note and directions, I found the man 
staring at me with a beaming yet bashful face, 
as he nodded, saying heartily, — 

‘‘ I mistrusted it was you, ma’am, soon ’s I 
see the name on the bundle, and I guess I ain’t 
wrong. It ’s a number of years sence we met, 
and you don’t remember Joe Collins as well as 
he does you, I reckon ? ” 

Why, how you have changed ! I ’ve been see- 
ing you every day all winter, and never knew 
you,” I said, shaking hands with my old patient, 
and very glad to see him. 


3o 6 Proverb Stories 

Nigh on to twenty years makes consid’able 
of a change in folks, 'specially if they have a 
pretty hard row to hoe." 

** Sit down and warm yourself while you tell 
me all about it; there is no hurry for this an- 
swer, and I 'll pay for your time." 

Joe laughed as if that was a good joke, and 
sat down as if the fire was quite as welcome as 
the friend. 

‘‘ How are they all at home? " I asked, as he 
sat turning his cap round, not quite knowing 
where to begin. 

‘‘ I have n't got any home nor any folks 
neither ; " and the melancholy words banished the 
brightness from his rough face like a cloud. 
“ Mother died soon after I got back. Suddin', 
but she was ready, and I was there, so she was 
happy. Jim lived a number of years, and was 
a sight of care, poor feller; but we managed to 
rub along, though we had to sell the farm: for 
I could n't do much with one arm, and doctor's 
bills right along stiddy take a heap of money. 
He was as comfortable as he could be ; and, when 
he was gone, it was n't no great matter, for there 
was only me, and I don't mind roughin' it." 

‘‘ But Lucindy, where was she? " I asked very 
naturally. 

“ Oh I she married another man long ago. 
Could n't expect her to take me and my misfor- 
tins. She 's doin’ well, I hear, and that 's a com- 
fort an3rway.” 


My Red Cap 307 

There was a look on Joe’s face, a tone in Joe’s 
voice as he spoke, that plainly showed how much 
he had needed comfort when left to bear his 
misfortunes all alone. But he made no com- 
plaint, uttered no reproach, and loyally excused 
Lucindy’s desertion with a simple sort of dignity 
that made it impossible to express pity or con- 
demnation. 

“ How came you here, Joe? ” I asked, making 
a sudden leap from past to present. 

‘‘ I had to scratch for a livin’, and can’t do 
much; so, after tryin’ a number of things, I 
found this. My old wounds pester me a good 
deal, and rheumatism is bad winters; but, while 
my legs hold out, I can git on. A man can’t 
set down and starve ; so I keep waggin’ as long 
as I can. When I can’t do no more, I s’pose 
there ’s almshouse and hospital ready for me.” 

‘‘ That is a dismal prospect, Joe. There ought 
to be a comfortable place for such as you to spend 
your last days in. I am sure you have earned it.” 

Wal, it does seem ruther hard on us when 
we ’ve give all we had, and give it free and 
hearty, to be left to knock about in our old age. 
But there ’s so many poor folks to be took care 
of, we don’t get much of a chance, for we ain’t 
the beggin’ sort,” said Joe, with a wistful look 
at the wintry world outside, as if it would be 
better to lie quiet under the snow, than to drag 
out his last painful years, friendless and forgot- 
ten, in some refuge of the poor. 


3o 8 Proverb Stories 

“ Some kind people have been talking of a 
home for soldiers, and I hope the plan will be 
carried out. It will take time; but, if it comes 
to pass, you shall be one of the first men to enter 
that home, Joe, if I can get you there.’' 

“ That sounds mighty cheerin’ and comfort- 
able, thanky, ma’am. Idleness is dreadful tryin’ 
to me, and I ’d ruther wear out than rust out ; 
so I guess I can weather it a spell longer. But 
it will be pleasant to look forrard to a snug har- 
bor bymeby. I feel a sight better just bearin’ 
tell about it.” He certainly looked so, faint as 
the hope was; for the melancholy eyes bright- 
ened as if they already saw a happier refuge in 
the future than almshouse, hospital, or grave, 
and, when he trudged away upon my errand, he 
went as briskly as if every step took him nearer 
to the promised home. 

After that day it was all up with Bob, for I 
told my neighbors Joe’s story, and we kept him 
trotting busily, adding little gifts, and taking the 
sort of interest in him that comforted the lonely 
fellow, and made him feel that he had not out- 
lived his usefulness. I never looked out when 
he was at his post that he did not smile back at 
me; I never passed him in the street that the 
red cap was not touched with a military flourish ; 
and, when any of us beckoned to him, no twinge 
of rheumatism was too sharp to keep him from 
hurrying to do our errands, as if he had Mer- 
cury’s winged feet. 


My Red Cap 309 

Now and then he came in for a chat, and 
always asked how the Soldiers' Home was pros- 
pering-; expressing his opinion that ‘‘ Boston was 
the charitablest city under the sun, and he was 
sure he and his mates would be took care of 
somehow." 

When we parted in the spring, I told him 
things looked hopeful, bade him be ready for a 
good long rest as soon as the hospitable doors 
were open, and left him nodding cheerfully. 


IV 

B ut in the autumn I looked in vain for Joe. 
The slate was in its old place, and a mes- 
senger came and went on his beat ; but a 
strange face was under the red cap, and this man 
had two arms and one eye. I asked for Collins, 
but the new-comer had only a vague idea that he 
was dead; and the same answer was given me 
at headquarters, though none of the busy people 
seemed to know when or where he died. So I 
mourned for Joe, and felt that it was very hard 
he could not have lived to enjoy the promised 
refuge; for, relying upon the charity that never 
fails, the Home was an actual fact now, just 
beginning its beneficent career. People were 
waking up to this duty, money was coming in, 
meetings were being held, and already a few 
poor fellows were in the refuge, feeling them- 
selves no longer paupers, but invalid soldiers 
honorably supported by the State they had served. 
Talking it over one day with a friend, who spent 
her life working for the Associated Charities, 
she said, — 

By the way, there is a man boarding with 


My Red Cap 311 

one of my poor women, who ought to be got 
into the Home, if he will go. I don’t know much 
about him, except that he was in the army, has 
been very ill with rheumatic fever, and is friend- 
less. I asked Mrs. Flanagin how she managed 
to keep him, and she said she had help while he 
was sick, and now he is able to hobble about, he 
takes care of the children, so she is able to go 
out to work. He won’t go to his own town, 
because there is nothing for him there but the 
almshouse, and he dreads a hospital; so strug- 
gles along, trying to earn his bread tending 
babies with his one arm. A sad case, and in your 
line; I wish you ’d look into it.” 

That sounds like my Joe, one arm and all. 
I ’ll go and see him ; I ’ve a weakness for sol- 
diers, sick or well.” 

I went, and never shall forget the pathetic 
little tableau I saw as I opened Mrs. Flanagin’s 
dingy door; for she was out, and no one heard 
my tap. The room was redolent of suds, and 
in a grove of damp clothes hung on lines sat a 
man with a crying baby laid across his lap, while 
he fed three small children standing at his knee 
with bread and molasses. How he managed 
with one arm to keep the baby from squirming 
on to the floor, the plate from upsetting, and 
to feed the hungry urchins who stood in a row 
with open mouths, like young birds, was past 
my comprehension. But he did, trotting baby 
gently, dealing out sweet morsels patiently, and 


312 Proverb Stories 

whistling to himself, as if to beguile his labors 
cheerfully. 

The broad back, the long legs, the faded coat, 
the low whistle were all familiar; and, dodging 
a wet sheet, I faced the man to find it was indeed 
my Joe ! A mere shadow of his former self, after 
months of suffering that had crippled him for 
life, but brave and patient still; trying to help 
himself, and not ask aid though brought so low. 

For an instant I could not speak to him, and, 
encumbered with baby, dish, spoon, and children, 
he could only stare at me with a sudden bright- 
ening of the altered face that made it full of 
welcome before a word was uttered. 

“ They told me you were dead, and I only 
heard of you by accident, not knowing I should 
find my old friend alive, but not well, I’m 
afraid? ” 

“ There ain’t much left of me but bones and 
pain, ma’am. I ’m powerful glad to see you all 
the same. Dust off a chair, Patsey, and let the 
lady set down. You go in the corner, and take 
turns lickin’ the dish, while I see company,” said 
Joe, disbanding his small troop, and shouldering 
the baby as if presenting arms in honor of his 
guest. 

“ Why did n’t you let me know how sick you 
were? And how came they to think you dead? ” 
I asked, as he festooned the wet linen out of the 
way, and prepared to enjoy himself as best he 
could. 


My Red Cap 313 

“ I did send once, when things was at the 
wust ; but you had n't got back, and then some- 
how I thought I was goin' to be mustered out 
for good, and so would n't trouble nobody. But 
my orders ain't come yet, and I am doing the 
fust thing that come along. It ain't much, but 
the good soul stood by me, and I ain't ashamed 
to pay my debts this way, sence I can't do it in 
no other ; " and Joe cradled the chubby baby in 
his one arm as tenderly as if it had been his own, 
though little Biddy was not an inviting infant. 

“ That is very beautiful and right, Joe, and I 
honor you for it; but you were not meant to 
tend babies, so sing your last lullabies, and be 
ready to go to the Home as soon as I can get 
you there." 

‘‘ Really, ma'am ? I used to lay and kind of 
dream about it when I could n’t stir without 
yellin' out; but I never thought it would ever 
come to happen. I see a piece in the paper 
describing it, and it sounded dreadful nice. 
Should n’t wonder if I found some of my mates 
there. They were a good lot, and deservin' of 
all that could be done for 'em," said Joe, trotting 
the baby briskly, as if the prospect excited him, 
as well it might, for the change from that damp 
nursery to the comfortable quarters prepared for 
him would be like going from Purgatory to Para- 
dise. 

I don't wonder you don't get well living in 
such a place, Joe. You should have gone home to 


314 Proverb Stories 

Woolwich, and let your friends help you,” I said, 
feeling provoked with him for hiding himself. 

“No, ma’am!” he answered, with a look I 
never shall forget, it was so full of mingled pa- 
tience, pride, and pain. “ I have n’t a relation 
in the world but a couple of poor old aunts, and 
they could n’t do anything for me. As for ask- 
ing help of folks I used to know, I could n’t do 
it ; and if you think I ’d go to Lucindy, though 
she is wal off, you don’t know Joe Collins. I ’d 
die fust ! If she was poor and I rich, I ’d do for 
her like a brother ; but I could n’t ask no favors 
of her, not if I begged my vittles in the street, 
or starved. I forgive, but I don’t forgit in a 
hurry; and the woman that stood by me when 
I was down is the woman I believe in, and can 
take my bread from without shame. Hooray for 
Biddy Flanagin ! God bless her ! ” and, as if to 
find a vent for the emotion that filled his eyes 
with grateful tears, Joe led off the cheer, which 
the children shrilly echoed, and I joined heartily. 

“ I shall come for you in a few days ; so cud- 
dle the baby and make much of the children 
before you part. It won’t take you long to pack 
up, will it ? ” I asked, as we subsided with a gen- 
eral laugh. 

“ I reckon not as I don’t own any clothes but 
what I set in, except a couple of old shirts and 
them socks. My hat ’s stoppin’ up the winder, 
and my old coat is my bed-cover. I ’m awful 
shabby, ma’am, and that’s one reason I don’t 


My Red Cap 315 

go out more. I can hobble some, but I ain^t got 
used to bein’ a scarecrow yet,” and Joe glanced 
from the hose without heels that hung on the 
line to the ragged suit he wore, with a resigned 
expression that made me long to rush out and 
buy up half the contents of Oak Hall on the spot. 

Curbing this wild impulse I presently departed 
with promises of speedy transportation for Joe, 
and unlimited oranges to assuage the pangs of 
parting for the young Flanagins, who escorted 
me to the door, while Joe waved the baby like a 
triumphal banner till I got round the corner. 

There was such a beautiful absence of red 
tape about the new institution that it only needed 
a word in the right ear to set things going; and 
then, with a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull 
all together, Joe Collins was taken up and safely 
landed in the Home he so much needed and so 
well deserved. 

A happier man or a more grateful one it would 
be hard to find, and if a visitor wants an enthusi- 
astic guide about the place, Joe is the one to take, 
for all is comfort, sunshine, and good-will to 
him; and he unconsciously shows how great the 
need of this refuge is, as he hobbles about on 
his lame feet, pointing out its beauties, conve- 
niences, and delights with his one arm, while his 
face shines, and his voice quavers a little as he 
says gratefully, — 

The State don’t forget us, you see, and this 
is a Home wuth havin’. Long life to it! ” 





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WHAT THE BELLS SAW AND SAID 


[Written in 1867.] 

“ Bells ring others to church, but go not in themselves.” 

O one saw the spirits of the bells up there 



in the old steeple at midnight on Christ- 


* mas Eve. Six quaint figures, each 
wrapped in a shadowy cloak and wearing a bell- 
shaped cap. All were gray-headed, for they 
were among the oldest bell-spirits of the city, 
and “ the light of other days ’’ shone in their 
thoughtful eyes. Silently they sat, looking down 
on the snow-covered roofs glittering in the moon- 
light, and the quiet streets deserted by all but 
the watchmen on their chilly rounds, and such 
poor souls as wandered shelterless in the winter 
night. Presently one of the spirits said, in a 
tone, which, low as it was, filled the belfry with 
reverberating echoes, — 

** Well, brothers, are your reports ready of 
the year that now lies dying? ’’ 

All bowed their heads, and one of the oldest 
answered in a sonorous voice: — 

My report is n^t all I could wish. You know 
I look down on the commercial part of our city 
and have fine opportunities for seeing what goes 


3 1 8 Proverb Stories 

on there. It ’s my business to watch the business 
men, and upon my word I ’m heartily ashamed 
of them sometimes. During the war they did 
nobly, giving their time and money, their sons 
and selves to the good cause, and I was proud 
of them. But now too many of them have fallen 
back into the old ways, and their motto seems to 
be, ‘ Every one for himself, and the devil take 
the hindmost.’ Cheating, lying and stealing are 
hard words, and I don’t mean to apply them to 
all who swarm about below there like ants on 
an ant-hill — they have other names for these 
things, but I ’m old-fashioned and use plain 
words. There ’s a deal too much dishonesty in 
the world, and business seems to have become 
a game of hazard in which luck, not labor, wins 
the prize. When I was young, men were years 
making moderate fortunes, and were satisfied 
with them. They built them on sure founda- 
tions, knew how to enjoy them while they lived, 
and to leave a good name behind them when 
they died. 

“Now it’s anything for money; health, hap- 
piness, honor, life itself, are flung down on that 
great gaming-table, and they forget everything 
else in the excitement of success or the despera- 
tion of defeat. Nobody seems satisfied either, 
for those who win have little time or taste to 
enjoy their prosperity, and those who lose have 
little courage or patience to support them in ad- 
versity. They don’t even fail as they used to. 


What the Bells Saw 319 

In my day when a merchant found himself em- 
barrassed he did n’t ruin others in order to save 
himself, but honestly confessed the truth, gave up 
everything, and began again. But now-a-days 
after all manner of dishonorable shifts there 
comes a grand crash; many suffer, but by some 
hocus-pocus the merchant saves enough to retire 
upon and live comfortably here or abroad. It ’s 
very evident that honor and honesty don’t mean 
now what they used to mean in the days of old 
May, Higginson and Lawrence. 

‘‘ They preach below here, and very well too 
sometimes, for I often slide down the rope to 
peep and listen during service. But, bless you! 
they don’t seem to lay either sermon, psalm or 
prayer to heart, for while the minister is doing 
his best, the congregation, tired with the breath- 
less hurry of the week, sleep peacefully, calculate 
their chances for the morrow, or wonder which 
of their neighbors will lose or win in the great 
game. Don’t tell me ! I ’ve seen them do it, and 
if I dared I ’d have startled every soul of them 
with a rousing peal. Ah, they don’t dream 
whose eye is on them, they never guess what 
secrets the telegraph wires tell as the messages 
fly by, and little know what a report I give to 
the winds of heaven as I ring out above them 
morning, noon, and night.” And the old spirit 
shook his head till the tassel on his cap jangled 
like a little bell. 

There are some, however, whom I love and 


Proverb Stories 


320 

honor/’ he said, in a benignant tone, who hon- 
estly earn their bread, who deserve all the success 
that comes to them, and always keep a warm 
corner in their noble hearts for those less blest 
than they. These are the men who serve the city 
in times of peace, save it in times of war, deserve 
the highest honors in its gift, and leave behind 
them a record that keeps their memories green. 
For such an one we lately tolled a knell, my 
brothers; and as our united voices pealed over 
the city, in all grateful hearts, sweeter and more 
solemn than any chime, rung the words that made 
him so beloved, — 

‘‘ ‘ Treat our dead boys tenderly, and send 
them home to me.’ ” 

He ceased, and all the spirits reverently un- 
covered their gray heads as a strain of music 
floated up from the sleeping city and died among 
the stars. 

Like yours, my report is not satisfactory in 
all respects,” began the second spirit, who wore 
a very pointed cap and a finely ornamented cloak. 
But, though his dress was fresh and youthful, 
his face was old, and he had nodded several times 
during his brother’s speech. My greatest afflic- 
tion during the past year has been the terrible 
extravagance which prevails. My post, as you 
know, is at the court end of the city, and I see all 
the fashionable vices and follies. It is a marvel 
to me how so many of these immortal creatures, 
with such opportunities for usefulness, self-im- 


what the Bells Saw 321 

provement and genuine happiness can be content 
to go round and round in one narrow circle of 
unprofitable and unsatisfactory pursuits. I do 
my best to warn them; Sunday after Sunday I 
chime in their ears the beautiful old hymns that 
sweetly chide or cheer the hearts that truly listen 
and believe; Sunday after Sunday I look down 
on them as they pass in, hoping to see that my 
words have not fallen upon deaf ears; and Sun- 
day after Sunday they listen to words that should 
teach them much, yet seem to go by them like 
the wind. They are told to love their neighbor, 
yet too many hate him because he possesses more 
of this world’s goods or honors than they; they 
are told that a rich man cannot enter the king- 
dom of heaven, yet they go on laying up perish- 
able wealth, and though often warned that moth 
and rust will corrupt, they fail to believe it till 
the worm that destroys enters and mars their 
own chapel of ease. Being a spirit, I see below 
external splendor and find much poverty of heart 
and soul under the velvet and the ermine which 
should cover rich and royal natures. Our city 
saints walk abroad in threadbare suits, and under 
quiet bonnets shine the eyes that make sunshine 
in the shady places. Often as I watch the glit- 
tering procession passing to and fro below me, I 
wonder if, with all our progress, there is to-day 
as much real piety as in the times when our 
fathers, poorly clad, with weapon in one hand 
and Bible in the other, came weary distances to 


32 2 Proverb Stories 

worship in the wilderness with fervent faith un- 
quenched by danger, suffering and solitude. 

“ Yet in spite of my fault-finding I love my 
children, as I call them, for all are not butter- 
flies. Many find wealth no temptation to forget- 
fulness of duty or hardness of heart. Many give 
freely of their abundance, pity the poor, comfort 
the afflicted, and make our city loved and hon- 
ored in other lands as in our own. They have 
their cares, losses, and heartaches as well as the 
poor ; it is n’t all sunshine with them, and they 
learn, poor souls, that 

* Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days must be dark and dreary.* 

But I Ve hopes of them, and lately they have 
had a teacher so genial, so gifted, so well-beloved 
that all who listen to him must be better for the 
lessons of charity, good-will and cheerfulness 
which he brings home to them by the magic of 
tears and smiles. We know him, we love him, 
we always remember him as the year comes 
round, and the blithest song our brazen tongues 
utter is a Christmas carol to the Father of ‘ The 
Chimes!”’ 

As the spirit spoke his voice grew cheery, his 
old face shone, and in a burst of hearty enthusi- 
asm he flung up his cap and cheered like a boy. 
So did the others, and as the fairy shout echoed 
through the belfry a troop of shadowy figures, 
with faces lovely or grotesque, tragical or gay, 


What the Bells Saw 323 

sailed by on the wings of the wintry wind and 
waved their hands to the spirits of the bells. 

As the excitement subsided and the spirits re- 
seated themselves, looking ten years younger for 
that burst, another spoke. A venerable brother 
in a dingy mantle, with a tuneful voice, and 
eyes that seemed to have grown sad with look- 
ing on much misery. 

‘‘ He loves the poor, the man we Ve just hur- 
rahed for, and he makes others love and remem- 
ber them, bless him ! ” said the spirit. ** I hope 
he 'll touch the hearts of those who listen to him 
here and beguile them to open their hands to my 
unhappy children over yonder. If I could set 
some of the forlorn souls in my parish beside 
the happier creatures who weep over imaginary 
woes as they are painted by his eloquent lips, 
that brilliant scene would be better than any ser- 
mon. Day and night I look down on lives as 
full of sin, self-sacrifice and suffering as any in 
those famous books. Day and night I try to 
comfort the poor by my cheery voice, and to 
make their wants known by proclaiming them 
with all my might. But people seem to be so 
intent on business, pleasure or home duties that 
they have no time to hear and answer my ap- 
peal. There 's a deal of charity in this good 
city, and when the people do wake up they work 
with a will ; but I can't help thinking that if some 
of the money lavished on luxuries was spent on 
necessaries for the poor, there would be fewer 


324 Proverb Stories 

tragedies like that which ended yesterday. It *s 
a short story, easy to tell, though long and hard 
to live; listen to it. 

Down yonder in the garret of one of the 
squalid houses at the foot of my tower, a little 
girl has lived for a year, fighting silently and 
single-handed a good fight against poverty and 
sin. I saw her when she first came, a hopeful, 
cheerful, brave-hearted little soul, alone, yet not 
afraid. She used to sit all day sewing at her 
window, and her lamp burnt far into the night, 
for she was very poor, and all she earned would 
barely give her food and shelter. I watched her 
feed the doves, who seemed to be her only 
friends; she never forgot them, and daily gave 
them the few crumbs that fell from her meagre 
table. But there was no kind hand to feed and 
foster the little human dove, and so she starved. 

‘‘ For a while she worked bravely, but the poor 
three dollars a week would not clothe and feed 
and warm her, though the things her busy fingers 
made sold for enough to keep her comfortably 
if she had received it. I saw the pretty color 
fade from her cheeks; her eyes grew hollow, her 
voice lost its cheery ring, her step its elasticity, 
and her face began to wear the haggard, anxious 
look that made its youth doubly pathetic. Her 
poor little gowns grew shabby, her shawl so thin 
she shivered when the pitiless wind smote her, 
and her feet were almost bare. Rain and snow 
beat on the patient little figure going to and fro. 


What the Bells Saw 325 

each morning with hope and courage faintly 
shining, each evening with the shadow of de- 
spair gathering darker round her. It was a hard 
time for all, desperately hard for her, and in her 
poverty, sin and pleasure tempted her. She re- 
sisted, but as another bitter winter came she 
feared that in her misery she might yield, for 
body and soul were weakened now by the long 
struggle. She knew not where to turn for help; 
there seemed to be no place for her at any safe 
and happy fireside; life's hard aspect daunted 
her, and she turned to death, saying confidingly, 
‘ Take me while I 'm innocent and not afraid 
to go.' 

I saw it all ! I saw how she sold every- 
thing that would bring money and paid her little 
debts to the utmost penny; how she set her poor 
room in order for the last time; how she ten- 
derly bade the doves good-by, and lay down on 
her bed to die. At nine o'clock last night as my 
bell rang over the city, I tried to tell what was 
going on in the garret where the light was dying 
out so fast. I cried to them with all my 
strength, — 

** ‘ Kind souls, below there ! a fellow-creature 
is perishing for lack of charity! Oh, help her 
before it is too late ! Mothers, with little daugh- 
ters on your knees, stretch out your hands and 
take her in! Happy women, in the safe shelter 
of home, think of her desolation! Rich men, 
who grind the faces of the poor, remember that 


Proverb Stories 


326 

this soul will one day be required of you ! Dear 
Lord, let not this little sparrow fall to the ground ! 
Help, Christian men and women, in the name of 
Him whose birthday blessed the world ! ’ 

‘‘ Ah me ! I rang, and clashed, and cried in 
vain. The passers-by only said, as they hurried 
home, laden with Christmas cheer : ‘ The old bell 
is merry to-night, as it should be at this blithe 
season, bless it ! ’ 

As the clocks struck ten, the poor child lay 
down, saying, as she drank the last bitter draught 
life could give her, ‘ It 's very cold, but soon I 
shall not feel it ; ’ and with her quiet eyes fixed 
on the cross that glimmered in the moonlight 
above me, she lay waiting for the sleep that needs 
no lullaby. 

“ As the clock struck eleven, pain and poverty 
for her were over. It was bitter cold, but she no 
longer felt it. She lay serenely sleeping, with 
tired heart and hands, at rest forever. As the 
clocks struck twelve, the dear Lord remembered 
her, and with fatherly hand led her into the home 
where there is room for all. To-day I rung her 
knell, and though my heart was heavy, yet my 
soul was glad ; for in spite of all her human woe 
and weakness, I am sure that little girl will keep 
a joyful Christmas up in heaven.’' 

In the silence which the spirits for a moment 
kept, a breath of softer air than any from the 
snowy world below swept through the steeple 
and seemed to whisper, ‘‘Yes!” 


what the Bells Saw 327 

‘‘Avast there! fond as I am of salt water, I 
don’t like this kind,” cried the breezy voice of 
the fourth spirit, who had a tiny ship instead 
of a tassel on his cap, and who wiped his wet 
eyes with the sleeve of his rough blue cloak. 
“ It won’t take me long to spin my yarn ; for 
things are pretty taut and ship-shape aboard our 
craft. Captain Taylor is an experienced sailor, 
and has brought many a ship safely into port in 
spite of wind and tide, and the devil’s own whirl- 
pools and hurricanes. If you want to see earnest- 
ness come aboard some Sunday when the Cap- 
tain ’s on the quarter-deck, and take an observa- 
tion. No danger of falling asleep there, no more 
than there is up aloft, ‘ when the stormy winds 
do blow.’ Consciences get raked fore and aft, 
sins are blown clean out of the water, false colors 
are hauled down and true ones run up to the 
masthead, and many an immortal soul is warned 
to steer off in time from the pirates, rocks and 
quicksands of temptation. He’s a regular re- 
volving light, is the Captain, — a beacon always 
burning and saying plainly, ‘ Here are life-boats, 
ready to put off in all weathers and bring the 
shipwrecked into quiet waters.’ He comes but 
seldom now, being laid up in the home dock, 
tranquilly waiting till his turn comes to go out 
with the tide and safely ride at anchor in the 
great harbor of the Lord. Our crew varies a 
good deal. Some of ’em have rather rough voy- 
ages, and come into port pretty well battered; 


328 Proverb Stories 

land-sharks fall foul of a good many, and do 
a deal of damage; but most of 'em carry brave 
and tender hearts under the blue jackets, for 
their rough nurse, the sea, manages to keep 
something of the child alive in the grayest old 
tar that makes the world his picture-book. We 
try to supply 'em with life-preservers while at 
sea, and make 'em feel sure of a hearty welcome 
when ashore, and I believe the year '67 will sail 
away into eternity with a satisfactory cargo. 
Brother North-End made me pipe my eye; so 
I 'll make him laugh to pay for it, by telling a 
clerical joke I heard the other day. Bell-ows 
didn't make it, though he might have done so, 
as he 's a connection of ours, and knows how to 
use his tongue as well as any of us. Speaking 
of the bells of a certain town, a reverend gentle- 
man affirmed that each bell uttered an appro- 
priate remark so plainly, that the words were 
audible to all. The Baptist bell cried, briskly, 
‘ Come up and be dipped ! come up and be 
dipped ! ' The Episcopal bell slowly said, ‘ Apos- 
tol-ic suc-cess-ion ! apos-tol-ic suc-cess-ion ! ' The 
Orthodox bell solemnly pronounced, ‘ Eternal 
damnation ! eternal damnation ! ' and the Metho- 
dist shouted, invitingly, ‘ Room for all ! room 
for all!"' 

As the spirit imitated the various calls, as only 
a jovial bell-sprite could, the others gave him a 
chime of laughter, and vowed they would each 
adopt some tuneful summons, which should 


what the Bells Saw 329 

reach human ears and draw human feet more 
willingly to church. 

Faith, brother, you Ve kept your word and 
got the laugh out of us,'' cried a stout, sleek 
spirit, with a kindly face, and a row of little 
saints round his cap and a rosary at his side. 
‘‘ It 's very well we are doing this year ; the 
cathedral is full, the flock increasing, and the true 
faith holding its own entirely. Ye may shake 
your heads if you will and fear there '11 be trou- 
ble, but I doubt it. We 've warm hearts of our 
own, and the best of us don't forget that when 
we were starving, America — the saints bless the 
jewel ! — sent us bread; when we were dying for 
lack of work, America opened her arms and took 
us in, and now helps us to build churches, homes 
and schools by giving us a share of the riches 
all men work for and win. It 's a generous 
nation ye are, and a brave one, and we showed 
our gratitude by fighting for ye in the day of 
trouble and giving ye our Phil, and many an- 
other broth of a boy. The land is wide enough 
for us both, and while we work and fight and 
grow together, each may learn something from 
the other. I 'm free to confess that your religion 
looks a bit cold and hard to me, even here in the 
good city where each man may ride his own 
hobby to death, and hoot at his neighbors as 
much as he will. You seem to keep your piety 
shut up all the week in your bare, white churches, 
and only let it out on Sundays, just a trifle musty 


330 Proverb Stories 

with disuse. You set your rich, warm and soft 
to the fore, and leave the poor shivering at the 
door. You give your people bare walls to look 
upon, common-place music to listen to, dull ser- 
mons to put them asleep, and then wonder why 
they stay away, or take no interest when they 
come. 

‘‘ We leave our doors open day and night ; 
our lamps are always burning, and we may come 
into our Father's house at any hour. We let 
rich and poor kneel together, all being equal 
there. With us abroad you 'll see prince and 
peasant side by side, school-boy and bishop, mar- 
ket-woman and noble lady, saint and sinner, 
praying to the Holy Mary, whose motherly arms 
are open to high and low. We make our 
churches inviting with immortal music, pictures 
by the world's great masters, and rites that are 
splendid symbols of the faith we hold. Call it 
mummery if ye like, but let me ask you why 
so many of your sheep stray into our fold ? It 's 
because they miss the warmth, the hearty, the 
maternal tenderness which all souls love and long 
for, and fail to find in your stern. Puritanical 
belief. By Saint Peter ! I 've seen many a luke- 
warm worshipper, who for years has nodded in 
your cushioned pews, wake and glow with some- 
thing akin to genuine piety while kneeling on 
the stone pavement of one of our cathedrals, with 
Raphael's angels before his eyes, with strains of 
magnificent music in his ears, and all about him, 


what the Bells Saw 331 

in shapes of power or beauty, the saints and 
martyrs who have saved the world, and whose 
presence inspires him to follow their divine ex- 
ample. It 's not complaining of ye I am, but 
just reminding ye that men are but children after 
all, and need more tempting to virtue than they 
do to vice, which last comes easy to ’em since 
the Fall. Do your best in your own ways to get 
the poor souls into bliss, and good luck to ye. 
But remember, there ’s room in the Holy Mother 
Church for all, and when your own priests send 
ye to the divil, come straight to us and we ’ll 
take ye in.” 

“ A truly Catholic welcome, bull and all,” said 
the sixth spirit, who, in spite of his old-fashioned 
garments, had a youthful face, earnest, fearless 
eyes, and an energetic voice that woke the echoes 
with its vigorous tones. ** I ’ve a hopeful report, 
brothers, for the reforms of the day are wheel- 
ing into rank and marching on. The war is n’t 
over nor rebeldom conquered yet, but the Old 
Guard has been ‘ up and at ’em ’ through the 
year. There has been some hard fighting, rivers 
of ink have flowed, and the Washington dawdlers 
have signalized themselves by a ‘ masterly in- 
activity.’ The political campaign has been an 
anxious one; some of the leaders have deserted; 
some been mustered out; some have fallen gal- 
lantly, and as yet have received no monuments. 
But at the Grand Review the Cross of the 
Legion of Honor will surely shine on many a 


Proverb Stories 


332 

brave breast that won no decoration but its vir- 
tue here; for the world’s fanatics make heaven’s 
heroes, poets say. 

‘‘ The flock of Nightingales that flew South 
during the * winter of our discontent ’ are all at 
home again, some here and some in Heaven. 
But the music of their womanly heroism still 
lingers in the nation’s memory, and makes a ten- 
der minor-chord in the battle-hymn of freedom. 

‘‘ The reform in literature is n’t as vigorous 
as I could wish ; but a sharp attack of mental and 
moral dyspepsia will soon teach our people that 
French confectionery and the bad pastry of 
Wood, Braddon, Yates & Co. is not the best 
diet for the rising generation. 

“ Speaking of the rising generation reminds 
me of the schools. They are doing well; they 
always are, and we are justly proud of them. 
There may be a slight tendency toward placing 
too much value upon book-learning; too little 
upon home culture. Our girls are acknowledged 
to be uncommonly pretty, witty and wise, but 
some of us wish they had more health and less 
excitement, more domestic accomplishments and 
fewer ologies and isms, and were contented with 
simple pleasures and the old-fashioned virtues, 
and not quite so fond of the fast, frivolous life 
that makes them old so soon. I am fond of our 
girls and boys. I love to ring for their christen- 
ings and marriages, to toll proudly for the brave 
lads in blue, and tenderly for the innocent crea- 


what the Bells Saw 333 

tures whose seats are empty under my old roof. 
I want to see them anxious to make Young 
America a model of virtue, strength and beauty, 
and I believe they will in time. 

“ There have been some important revivals 
in religion; for the world won't stand still, and 
we must keep pace or be left behind to fossilize. 
A free nation must have a religion broad enough 
to embrace all mankind, deep enough to fathom 
and fill the human soul, high enough to reach the 
source of all love and wisdom, and pure enough 
to satisfy the wisest and the best. Alarm bells 
have been rung, anathemas pronounced, and 
Christians, forgetful of their creed, have abused 
one another heartily. But the truth always tri- 
umphs in the end, and whoever sincerely believes, 
works and waits for it, by whatever name he calls 
it, will surely find his own faith blessed to him 
in proportion to his charity for the faith of 
others. 

“ But look ! — the first red streaks of dawn are 
in the East. Our vigil is over, and we must fly 
home to welcome in the holidays. Before we 
part, join with me, brothers, in resolving that 
through the coming year we will with all our 
hearts and tongues, — 

‘ Ring out the old, ring in the new, 

Ring out the false, ring in the true ; 

Ring in the valiant man and free. 

Ring in the Christ that is to be.’ ” 


334 Proverb Stories 

Then hand in hand the spirits of the bells 
floated away, singing in the hush of dawn the 
sweet song the stars sung over Bethlehem, — 
** Peace on earthy good will to men/' 


THE END. 




‘ 'l « ' 


/ 

I 






I 





New Illustrated Edition of 
The Spinning-Wheel Series 


THE SPINNING-WHEEL SERIES 

By Louisa M. Alcott. New Illustrated Edition. Uniform in 
size with the Illustrated Edition of The Little Women Series, 
printed from entirely new plates, with new and attractive cover 
design. 4vols. i2mo. Decorated cloth, in box, $6.00. ; Separately, 
$1.50. 

1. SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES 

With 8 full-page pictures and vignette on titlepage by Wm. A. 
McCullough. $i.so. ^ 

2 . SILVER PITCHERS 

With 8 full-page pictures and vignette on titlepage by J. W. F. Kennedy. 

^1.50- 

3. PROVERB STORIES 

With 8 full-page pictures and vignette on titlepage by Ethel Pennewill 
Brown. $1.50. 

4. A GARLAND FOR GIRLS 

With 12 full-page pictures and vignette on titlepage by Clara E. 
Atwood and other artists. ^1.50. 

F our volumes of healthy and hearty stories so told as to 
fascinate the young people, while inculcating sturdy courage 
and kindness to the weak in the boys, and in the girls those virtues 
which fit them for filling a woman’s place in the home. The several 
artists have caught the spirit of the author and have provided capital 
illustrations for these new editions. 

It is not rash to say that Miss Alcott’ s stories were never more 
appealing to young readers than at the present moment. In spite 
of a profusion of juvenile fiction, they have steadily held their own ; 
and they persistently refuse, through their inherent merits, to be 
elbowed aside by pretentious modern stories of unnatural and unreal 
childhood life. The very genuineness of character and incident, 
the homely appeal to all that is best in young womanhood and 
young manhood, have made “Little Men,” “Little Women,” 
and their successors classics in their kind. — Boston Transcript. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY 

Publuhers, 154 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


The Little Women Series 

By LOUISA M. ALCOTT 


1. LITTLE WOMEN ; or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy 

Illustrated. i6mo. $1.50. 

A simple story of the home life of four girls. A portrayal of child life, natural, whole- 
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Gives delightful pictures of boy life at old Plumheld, and is brimful of activity, merriment, 
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This sequel to “ Little Men ” takes up the story and carries Jo’s boys through the home 
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The heroine of this book is shown as a possible improvement upon the girl of the period, 
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6. ROSE IN BLOOM 

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This sequel to “ Eight Cousins” carries on the story of Rose and the cousins, and is full of 
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7. UNDER THE LILACS 

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8. JACK AND JILL 

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A vivid yet natural portrayal of home and school life in a New England village, full of the 
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THE ABOVE EIGHT VOLUMES, UNIFORMLY BOUND, IN BOX, $12.00 

Uniform with “ The Little Women Series!* 

COMIC TRAGEDIES 

Written by “ Jo ” and ” Meg,” and acted by the “ Little Women,” with a Foreword by 
Meg.” Portraits, etc. i6mo. $1.50. 

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 

Her Life, Letters, and Journals. Edited by Ednah D. Cheney. With photogravure 
portraits, etc. i6mo. f 1.50. 


Other Stories by LOUISA M. ALCOTT 


SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES 

Four volumes of healthy and hearty short stories so told as to fascinate the young 
people, while inculcating sturdy courage and kindness to the weak in the boys, and 
m the girls those virtues which fit them for filling a woman’s place in the home. 

1. SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES 

With twelve initial illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

2. SILVER PITCHERS: and Independence 

i6mo. It.25. 

3. PROVERB STORIES 

i6mo. $1.25. 

4. A GARLAND FOR GIRLS 

With illustrations. i6ino. $ 1 - 2 $. 

The above four volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, $5.00. 

AUNT JO’S SCRAP BAG 

Six books of jolly, readable stories told in Miss Alcott’s best style and sure to 
please young people. 

1. MY BOYS 

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2. SHAWL-STRAPS 

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The above six volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, |6.oo. 

LULU’S LIBRARY 

Delightful short stories, many of them founded on incidents from Miss Alcott’s 
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Three volumes. Each, $ 1 . 00 . The set, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, I3.00. 

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HOSPITAL SKETCHES 

and Camp and Fireside Stories. With illustrations. i6mo. I1.50. 

WORK 

A Story of Experience. Illustrated by Sol Eytinge. i6mo. #r.So« 

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New Illustrated Editions of 
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THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES 

By Louisa M. Alcott. Illustrated Edition. With eighty-four 
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Separately as follows: 

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With 15 full-page illustrations by Reginald B. Birch. $2.00. 

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5. EIGHT COUSINS ; or, the Aunt-Hill 

With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 

6. ROSE IN BLOOM 

A Sequel to “Eight Cousins.” With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet 
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8. JACK AND JILL 

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The artists selected to illustrate have caught the spirit of the originals and contributed a 
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Boston Herald. 

Alice Barber Stephen^ who is very near the head of American illustrators, has shown 
wonderful ability in delineating the characters and costumes for “ Little Women.” They are 
almost startlingly realistic. — Worcester Spy. 

Miss Alcott’s books have never before had such an attractive typographical dress as the 
present. They are printed in large type on heavy paper, artistically bound, and illustrated 
with many full-page drawings. — Philadelphia Press. 


LITTLE, BROWN, COMPANY 

fublithen, *54 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 






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